


Live a Thousand Lifetimes

by Layne Faire (HisDarlin)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bed and Breakfast, Canon Compliant, Exes to Lovers, Future Fic, Horseback Riding, Horses, Karen Payne is a BAMF, M/M, Miscommunication, Quinn earns his own tag, References to Alcohol Abuse, References to Depression, References to Panic Attacks, References to Rehab, References to substance abuse, Smut, To a point, Vineyard, farm, on actual horses you pervs, side larry - Freeform, simon is a snake, the music industry sucks, with liberal headcanon applied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24189193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisDarlin/pseuds/Layne%20Faire
Summary: It’s 2025.After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour.With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.Written for Round 3 of the One Direction BigBang with art byhaztobegood.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 62
Kudos: 151
Collections: One Direction Big Bang Round 3





	1. All Of the Sudden You're Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> This future headcanon started out as an idea for a fic based on the song _Once in a Lifetime_ for the Four fic fest. Somewhere along the way, it took on a life of it's own, and my little 5K idea turned into this. Zayn's album _Icarus Falls_ fueled most of this story, and the title is taken from the lyrics of _Stand Still_.
> 
> I need to give a massive shoutout and shower all my love, thanks, and gratitude on [Gina ](https://twopoppies.tumblr.com/) for tackling the beta work on this. She has made this a much better story than I could have hoped for, and I learned so very much from her as she walked through it with me. Also much love to the incredibly wonderful[ Roni ](https://reminiscingintherain.tumblr.com/)for her Brit pick, and not allowing me to use - but they're in the United States! - as an excuse for being wrong. 
> 
> SO much love to the lovely and talented [ Jinny](https://haztobegood.tumblr.com/) who brought my meager words to life with her beautiful artwork. I'm still stunned to see The Sanctuary without having to close my eyes and dream about it. 
> 
> Huge kudos and thanks to the big bang mods for all of their hard work and support throughout the writing cycle, and finally, to the Big Bang Panic Room chat, who dragged me kicking and screaming through the crucial parts of this fic - you lot are amazing writers, every single one of you, and I'm so freaking thrilled to have become better acquainted with all of you! 
> 
> Finally, do not share this fic with members of One Direction (past and present), their families, their bands, or their friends. Fan fiction, is for fans, let's keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _Remember_ by Liam Payne

* * *

[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

* * *

Liam hadn’t truly expected to find more than the thinnest thread of truth to the myriad rumors he’d heard over the past decade. If he’d learned anything at all after fifteen years in the industry, it was that any narrative could be shaped by a few well-placed lies and half truths. His overarching need for closure had trumped common sense, though. With the upcoming album release, and the added scrutiny it would bring, he felt like he couldn’t wait any longer. He tediously compiled the sparse bits of information he’d cobbled together from overheard conversations and casual asides, and sheepishly handed it over to his personal attorney for her to wade through. To be honest, he didn't think it would amount to much of anything, but he’d been desperate.

Apparently Liam had underestimated Anitra’s investigative skills, though. With each weekly email update, she’d unravelled another thread of the massive web of subterfuge being used to hide not only Zayn’s whereabouts, but even his ownership of the vineyard, despite it having been mentioned in dozens of news articles as a farm years ago. It wasn’t until she’d placed the file containing everything she’d discovered into his hands that Liam acknowledged that just knowing Zayn was apparently doing well wasn’t good enough. The three grainy pictures included in the file, instead of reassuring him of that fact, only left him desperate for more. He needed to see for himself, and maybe, finally - hopefully - be able to close that chapter of his life.

Emily had made the reservations, using the same name he’d used for the last 15 years - an alias that only four other people knew and would recognize. The objective was to keep his whereabouts hidden from fans and the press, but Liam knew Zayn would put two and two together once he saw the reservation. Of course, that was assuming Zayn was as involved with the vineyard and inn as Liam had been led to believe. He could just be flying to a quiet, remote ten day break from reality where his questions would continue to remain unanswered - just like they’d been for the last ten years.

He’d spent years in therapy figuring out who he was and where his place was in the fantastical world his life had turned into all those years ago, when he’d stepped back on stage for another chance at achieving his life’s dream. Of course, then, as a naive 16 year old, he’d held a much different perspective on what his priorities in life were, unlike now. With the added elements of time, introspection, and maturity, Liam had come to understand certain things were never guaranteed, not without doing the work that needed to be done in order to preserve them. Which brought him to where he now sat - in a rental car on a quiet rural road in Pennsylvania, in front of the last place he ever expected to confront his past, and if fate smiled on his efforts, hopefully get a second chance at reclaiming the missing pieces of his heart.

 _The Sanctuary at Rising Phoenix Vineyards_ , a large wrought iron sign proclaimed next to an open gate. A luxurious farmhouse in the distance overlooked rolling acres of fields gone fallow at the end of the growing season and a large barn with several horses meandering in a corral adjacent to it. The surrounding copse of trees still wore their autumn finery - branches in vibrant shades of red, orange and gold stretched into the expansive sky unmarred by the towering skyscrapers and hazy smog of the city he’d left behind. With a deep breath and a prayer, he made the turn onto the gravel covered road, and approached the one unresolved question from his past that continued to haunt him years after it had become a footnote to everyone else.

The gravel gave way to a circular cobblestone drive with a small car park near the main entrance of the inn. Liam parked the nondescript Hyundai Tucson and took another deep breath to settle the sudden flurry of butterflies in his gut. He could do this. Nevermind that. He _had_ to do this if he stood any chance of finding the peace that had eluded him for so long. He removed his aviators and hooked them in the unbuttoned neck of his long sleeved henley as he exited the vehicle. He pulled a duffle bag and a backpack from the backseat and took a minute to calm himself while he took in where he’d be staying for the next ten days. A wide covered porch ran in front of the beautiful bed and breakfast, appearing to wrap around the building. Charming rockers and wicker sofas were spaced to invite intimate gatherings and conversations. Baskets of late season flowers and ivy hung in the arches, lending to the air of reflective solitude on offer.

Liam shouldered the backpack and approached the entrance, double wooden doors with full length oval stained glass that gleamed in the afternoon sun. The leaded glass panels depicted twin images of a blazing phoenix twisting into the air, a rainbow cascade of feathers falling away from its wings. Even in an unfamiliar medium, the artwork was unmistakable, and it sent another jolt of trepidation through him. He opened one of the heavy doors and entered an exquisitely appointed reception and seating area. Turn of the century wing chairs in a deep wine brocade flanked a stone fireplace with a thick cherry mantlepiece, the roaring fire contained within chasing the chill from the vaulted room. He turned slowly, absorbing the understated elegance of the room and how much it reflected the impeccable taste of its owner.

A small cough drew Liam back from his musings. Of course, check in.

“Welcome to The Sanctuary!” A dark-haired woman, Lauren according to the name badge pinned to her blouse, greeted him with a welcoming smile from behind the desk. “Will you be checking in with us this afternoon?”

Liam nodded and pulled out the confirmation email Emily had shoved into his hands with his passport at Heathrow as he rushed to make the flight to the States. “Uhm yes.” He slid the printout across the desk. “The reservation is under James Williams. I believe my assistant has already taken care of all the details.”

Lauren’s head snapped up, the sudden correlation between the name and the face obvious in the wide-eyed shock she quickly covered up. “Of course, Mr. uh... Mr. Williams.” her voice caught and she stumbled over using the false identity. She gamely pressed on and continued to maintain the ruse. “We have you booked into Zeta, a lovely king suite on the second floor. It’s the only suite on that wing, secluded and quiet, with an _en suite_ and private balcony. There is also a library here on the first floor at the rear of the house. Feel free to borrow any of the books we have in there.” She handed back the confirmation letter, along with a small wallet containing the room’s key cards, while she continued highlighting the inn’s available amenities. Liam nodded in acknowledgement while glancing down the well-lit hallway she directed his attention to. “You’ll find the entrance to the dining area in that large alcove on the left with the menus posted daily. Also, almost directly across from there is the library, where you can find a wide selection of books, games, and puzzles available for guests during their stay with us.”

She paused in her spiel to catch her breath and Liam took the opportunity to interject.

“The agreements were all signed?”

“Yes sir. They were all faxed back to your assistant as soon as she contacted us for the reservation. Your visit will be handled with the discretion it deserves, and so long as you are on Rising Phoenix property, you can rest assured that your privacy will be respected.”

“And Emily provided a card on file for incidentals?”

“She did, but it won’t be necessary. Mr. Malik has comped your stay and instructed the staff that you are to be given carte blanche around the inn. Simply ask a member of staff for anything you require and it will be provided. He wishes you to treat The Sanctuary as if it were your own home.”

Liam nodded, his throat thick with emotion at the casual mention of Zayn’s name. Well, that answered any questions about the depth of Zayn’s involvement. He also knew Liam was at Sanctuary. Unsure how to process that information, Liam opted for a retreat to re-gather his thoughts.

“Right. I’m sorry. It was a long drive from JFK after an even longer flight from London.” He turned his body away from the counter and peered back down the hall, then returned his attention to Lauren with a vague wave over his shoulder. “Which way to my room, again?”

“Oh yes, of course!” Lauren patted the hand that rested on the counter. “You must be exhausted. The elevator is just down to the left, right before the dining area. Take it to the second floor, then turn right. You’re at the end of the hall. It’s the only door in that direction, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.”

Liam nodded his thanks. He followed Lauren’s directions to his room, in desperate need of a nap before he could begin to think about what his next steps would be. Between the scramble to leave London, the emotional turmoil that accompanied the entire trip, and the latest revelation, he was completely knackered. He opened the door and stepped into a well-appointed facsimile of an Italianate villa. Austere white walls were softened by sumptuous burgundy drapery pulled back to reveal breathtaking views of the rolling countryside. He vaguely noted the understated grandeur of the room, dropping his bags onto an elegant sage divan. He toed off his shoes, his feet sinking into the luxurious silver grey carpeting, and trudged over to the bed, where he collapsed, his eyes closing the minute his head hit the pillow.

Zayn had been trying to focus on the designs for the renovation of the carriage house for the last two hours, but if asked, he’d have been hard-pressed to recall a single detail of the architect’s plans. The last thing he gave a shit about was if they should use exposed beams in the sitting area or if the soft, smoke grey carpet would complement the antique, turn of the century, cherry bedroom set he’d lucked onto at an estate sale a few weeks back. He’d been delighted at the find at the time, but now? He couldn’t be arsed to expend the energy considering the aesthetics.

Not now.

Not today.

Not when Liam was slated to arrive at Sanctuary at any given moment. _Liam._ Zayn sighed to himself. He hadn’t laid eyes on him in over ten years - not since he’d left him sleeping in their bed, as he’d snuck from their room and walked away from the band in the middle of their last tour. Left without sparing a goodbye to any of the others - not even the person he’d once believed to be his soulmate. _Once believed. Yeah right._ Zayn snorted out loud _. At least be honest with yourself. Not a single day has passed in the last ten years that you haven’t thought about him. Wondered what if..._

He’d known, even then, it was a shit thing to do, but he’d been so fucked up at the time, he couldn’t see any other way to regain some semblance of control. The schedule, the demands, the lies- it had all become too much to handle. He’d woken up that morning in a cold sweat, his heart racing at double speed, and just the thought of having to walk on stage later that evening had sent him running to the loo to heave up whatever Liam and Louis had managed to convince him to eat the night before. Sat on the bare tile floor, his forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of the tub, Zayn knew he couldn’t do it another minute. The bits of drugs and alcohol they’d all used to dull the reality of how absolutely fucked up their lives were had stopped working for him, and he’d found other ways to numb the pain. Pills to keep his mood up all day, alcohol to dull the bullshit, a different batch of pills and more alcohol to wind down at the end of the day. The only thing he had any control over in his life was how he coped with dragging himself through the day to make it back on stage. That, and whether or not he ate - so he didn’t. It was a deadly cocktail and he’d known if he didn’t get out he’d be dead within a year. He hadn’t realised at the time, though, the level of control Simon could exert over his life. It'd been like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire.

Zayn dropped the folder on his desk and gave up on getting any actual work done. His glasses joined the pile of architectural renderings, and he pressed his fingers into the corner of his eyes in an effort to stop the tears that threatened to spill. That was one thing that had never changed - the sense of loss and regret he still felt when he thought about his time in One Direction.

Any shred of goodwill that the boys might have held with regards to him had been decimated during promotion for his first solo album. He’d said so much shit in the interviews he'd given during the release - tonnes of lies and half truths that his manager assured him would help ‘authenticate his new sound and image’. Instead it nailed shut the coffin on friendships that he truly had treasured, no matter what he might have actually said. Then again, his manager had been hand picked by Simon, so really - should he have expected anything different? She'd been just one more in a long line of money-grubbing executives looking to exploit his talent. Simon had demanded an album for his pound of flesh, then found a way to turn it into two, all the while acting like he was doing Zayn a favor by allowing him to have a solo career at all. And the people who should have been in Zayn’s corner and working to promote and protect him were all too willing to curry Simon's favor at his expense.

The release of his second album, and the single _Good Years,_ had only served to feed the drama - everyone had thought it was a slap at the band, specifically at Louis, despite that being the furthest from his intent. He'd missed his best friend, and had no idea how to fix it. It only made the situation worse.

The one thing Simon hadn’t been able to do was force Zayn back on stage to perform and tour. The anxiety every time he’d tried had left him paralyzed with fear, and even after a shit tonne of therapy and more than a couple runs through rehab, he’d never been able to face it again. It was the only decent thing the executives at RCA had done for him - ran interference, kept him off the road, and allowed him to maintain his sanity. Once he’d satisfied Simon’s extortion, he had walked away, moved to Rising Phoenix, and never looked back. The few collabs and features he had done since were because he’d wanted to, not because he owed someone something.

Yeah, he may have walked away from One Direction all those years ago, but the decision had haunted him every day since.

Refusing to fall further down that hole of futile what-ifs, Zayn pushed himself away from the desk. He walked over to look out over the grounds - his vineyards, the inn, the solitude and peace he’d carved out for himself. The staff that oversaw every aspect of the operation knew who he was - and while they’d all signed non-disclosure agreements when he’d hired them, he doubted any of them would ever betray them. They’d all worked together to nurture and restore the original farmhouse and the neglected fields that surrounded it. And that effort had included Zayn’s own sweat equity. He’d stepped in and done a significant amount of the manual labor alongside the people he’d hired, determined to have a hand in creating his home.

Would Liam understand why Sanctuary and Rising Phoenix were so important? How it had literally saved his life? Did he even want to try to explain? Would Liam be willing to listen if he did? Zayn had hidden his ownership of the property in a generic trust using his mother’s maiden name, yet Liam had still managed to find him. That had to mean something, right? Otherwise, why would he have bothered looking in the first place? _Why?_

Futility. Every question he posed to himself was a lesson in futility. Only one person could answer them, and Zayn wavered between needing to find out why Liam had come, while dreading any answer he might receive.

His office looked out over the fields and corral, not the meandering driveway that led to the inn. He had no idea if Liam had arrived yet. He’d downplayed the personal interest he had in Liam’s impending visit to his staff, but he also knew more than a couple of the women who worked at the inn had also been fans of One Direction - together and solo - for years. The knowing glances and inquisitive raised eyebrows when he’d addressed the handling of their celebrity guest had been more than enough acknowledgement of what they suspected. Hell, he’d overheard Lauren and the young woman who managed the stables discussing Louis and Harry’s coming out, so he didn’t doubt they knew all the other rumors, too. Asking to be informed of Liam’s arrival would have only fueled a round of gossip amongst his staff, and that was the last thing he needed. Not when he already knew speculation ran rampant out of his earshot.

He didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to see Liam. All he had to do was get in his car and leave. The staff already knew Liam’s privacy was to be protected as staunchly as they did his. He could drive away right now; go stay at the apartment in Manhattan until Liam left. Hell, he could even hop a flight to England and go see his mum - it’d been a few months since the last time he’d been back. The harvest season was over, the wines casked for aging, and the inn’s holiday events booked to capacity through the end of the year. There was no pressing need requiring his presence at Rising Phoenix.

The phone buzzed from the front desk, it’s sudden alert setting off an unsettling shiver along Zayn’s spine. There were currently two other couples staying at the inn, and only _Mr. Williams_ scheduled to arrive today. He knew, without picking up the phone, the reason for Lauren’s call.

Liam had arrived.

Right. _No pressing need to stay._

None whatsoever… except his own reckless lack of self-preservation.

Liam woke with a start, the room shrouded in darkness, save the soft aura of the rising moon glowing through the panes of French doors he’d failed to notice earlier. _Right. Pennsylvania. Zayn._ He sat up and slid to the edge of the bed, his body still worn down from the day. With a ragged sigh, he scrubbed his hands across his face, palms pressing into his eye sockets in an attempt to push the fog from his brain. He shook his head and reached over to turn on the small lamp next to the bed. He looked around the room, taking in the details he’d missed when he first arrived. Massive, antique mahogany furnishings were minimized by oversized mirrors, the overall effect homey, and not unlike stepping into his Nan’s house. A gold and cream brocade rocker with matching ottoman sat drawn up in front of a dark fireplace, inviting him to settle in and relax, while a deep sage armchair sat pulled away from a compact desk in another corner, offering him someplace to set up his laptop, should he be inclined to get any work done while he was there. Not that he didn’t have shit he could work on, but he hoped he’d have other things to occupy his time instead. _Like finding Zayn_.

Liam straightened the coverlet on the bed, admiring the way the gauzy white sheers softened the heavy four poster frame, without distracting from its elegance. The entire room screamed class, and Liam couldn’t help but be impressed. Through the French doors, a private balcony beckoned in the moonlight, the hoot of a passing owl reminding him how rural the property was.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d had nothing to eat since he’d left London, too nervous on the flight to do anything but hyperfocus on what would happen when he reached Sanctuary. Lifting his wrist, he peered at his watch. Only 7:30. He still had time to make dinner service. He padded into the bathroom and had a wee, then peered into the mirror, attempting to objectively evaluate the man looking back at him. A hint of silver tinged the hair at his temples, despite his stylist Kim’s frequent attempts to talk him into colouring it to blend with his hair. Maybe for the tour, he’d conceded, but not a minute sooner. The familiar crinkles around his eyes had deepened over the years, the hint of crows’ feet present even when his expressions were in repose. Overall, the years had been kind, despite the abuse he’d heaped on his body at times.

He took the time to drag a damp flannel across his face to wash the sleep from his eyes, then returned to the bedroom. He unpacked, swapping the wrinkled henley for a light jumper. Sliding his feet back into his deck shoes, he tucked his room key into the hip pocket of his jeans. With a silent prayer for strength to a God he was certain didn’t exist, he stepped out of the sanctuary of his room and wandered back downstairs and into the dining room.

He found a large room with a handful of tables draped in forest green linens. Small branch candelabra graced each one, the lambent light from the candles warming the room and inviting him in. A woman near his mum’s age walked into the room from a set of swinging doors, drawing up short when she saw him. A deep blush suffused her cheeks, a startling contrast to her lilac hair, but the smile that followed brightened the corners of the room that the candlelight hadn’t reached.

“You must be Mr. Williams, then. I’m Lissie, the kitchen manager. Please, take a seat wherever you want. Everyone else has already eaten this evening, so you have your pick of tables.”

Liam took a step, then hesitated. “If everyone else has already eaten, I don’t want to put you to any bother.”

“What bother? The menu was planned for the number of guests on the registry and the evening staff.” She waved him toward the tables as she bustled back through the doors. “Sit! Sit!”

With an amused chuckle, Liam complied, if only not to have her take him to task again.

Lissie returned just as quickly, setting a small basket in the center of the table. The yeasty aroma of fresh bread assailed his senses and his stomach rumbled again in response. Liam grimaced and reached for one of the crusty rolls in the basket while Lissie poured a glass of ice water and set it next to his flatware.

“We’re starting tonight off with a lovely arugula, roasted tomato and goat cheese salad drizzled in a maple-balsamic dressing.” A young man exited the kitchen carrying a salad plate and placed that in front of Liam as well. “While you’re setting into that, let me tell you about our two entree choices this evening. The first is Lemon Leek Cornish Hens, prepared with a leek and cornbread stuffing, and accompanied by roasted Normandy vegetables in a butter herb sauce.” Liam nodded as he slathered a smear of butter onto the torn roll. “The second is Saba Braised Lamb Shanks on a bed of pureed garlic potatoes served with roasted butternut squash tossed with garlic and parsley.”

“To be honest, both sound delicious.” Liam looked up from his salad plate and shrugged in response. “Which would you suggest?”

“They are both delicious, and I’d say it really comes down to whether you’re in the mood for poultry or red meat. Even with the stuffing, the cornish hens are light, but the lamb offers a heartier alternative.”

“Then, let’s go with the lamb. It’s been a long day and I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Liam replied.

The young man by the kitchen door disappeared inside at Lissie’s nod of affirmation. “It’ll be just a few minutes, Mr. Williams.” She tripped over the name and Liam smiled to himself, almost missing the rest of what she said. “And may I suggest a glass of Rising Phoenix Merlot Reserve to accompany your meal? It’s a rich Merlot blend, with highlights of Cabernet Franc and Cabernet Sauvignon, as well as a hint of Petit Verdot.”

“Lissie, please call me Liam. It’s obvious you know who I am, and frankly it’s just weird being called something different.” Lissie blushed again, and Liam changed the subject. “Wait - Rising Phoenix Merlot? So this is a producing vineyard?”

“It absolutely is, and producing some of the finest American vintages you could ever taste.” Lissie stated, the pride in her tone obvious when she continued. “Along with the Reserve, we also offer a straight Merlot, the Cabernets, and the Verdot, as well as sweet and dry Rieslings, Pinot Grigio, and house blends of red, white, and blush. There are even a few award winners amongst our vintages.”

Liam shook his head, incredulous at the revelation. “I suppose - when in Rome… I’ll try that Reserve, then.”

“A glass or a bottle, Mr.-” Liam’s head snapped up, “sorry. I mean, Liam.”

“I think a glass will be more than sufficient on top of jet lag, don’t you?”

“Right, of course” she laughed. “We can’t have you wandering off into the fields in a drunken stupor. I’ll be right back with that, as well.”

Lissie left and Liam took a drink of water to clear his dry throat. He couldn’t even begin to process what Lissie had relayed about the success of the vineyard. Instead, he focused on the plate in front of him. The salad looked delicious, and Liam took an experimental bite, humming at the vibrant mix of flavors. He was nearly finished by the time Lissie returned, the young man right behind her with Liam’s main course.

Lissie set down the glass, and at Liam’s nod, removed the salad plate and replaced it with the entree.

“This looks - wow! Incredible. Thank you.”

Lissie stepped back and dismissed the young man. “I'll leave you to eat in peace. Should you need anything else, I'll be in and out of the kitchen. Don't hesitate to ask.”

“To be honest, can you- I mean if it doesn’t interfere with anything else - I was wondering- it’s just, I hate to eat alone.”

“I-” Lissie glanced around the room, “let me just take care of a couple small things first, and then I can sit for a few minutes.” She darted back into the kitchen.

Liam sighed. He took a sip of the wine, the flavors lingering rich and warm on his tongue. Lissie hadn’t lied about the quality, and given the look of his dinner plate, that would also merit her praise. She rejoined him as he took the first bite, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes at his obvious enjoyment.

“I have 15 minutes to spare before I need to start breaking down the kitchen.” Lissie said as she took her seat, a cup of tea in her hand. “I’ll talk about the vineyard, the inn, Dauphin County, and the horses. I won’t answer any personal questions about Mr. Malik. He deserves his privacy, and for those questions,” she inclined her head, then gave a firm nod, “you’ll have to ask him directly.”

Liam blinked rapidly at her forthrightness, and set his fork down. He paused and wiped his mouth, giving his brain time to engage before he said anything stupid.

“And how, exactly, do I find Mr. Malik?” Liam asked, and took another deep sip from his wine glass, ignoring the shake of his hand when he gripped the stem.

“He’s around. I’m sure you’ll see him eventually.” Lissie replied, then launched into a description of the various activities available to amuse him during his stay, both on and off the vineyard.

Stifling a chuckle at her skillful avoidance of a direct answer, Liam rolled with it. The continual stream of chatter proved a welcome reprieve from the silence that would have surely led to him obsessing over things he couldn’t control.

Liam took his leave of the dining room an hour later, Lissie wishing him a good evening as he left. Still out of sorts at everything he’d learned during dinner, and looking to calm his mind before bed, he wandered into the small library across from the dining room. Floor to ceiling bookcases lined the walls on two sides, the upper shelves only accessible via a rolling ladder. He scanned the brightly colored rows of books, his fingers drawn to a familiar black cover.

Absently he wandered over toward the sitting area, stopping short when he realised he wasn't alone. Zayn sat in one of the two wing chairs that flanked the fireplace, his finger tucked between the pages of a closed book to hold his place.

“Sorry, I didn’t-” Liam stuttered, lost for words even as his eyes drank in the sight in front of him like a dying man in a desert. Gone were the piercings and casual streetwear that had seemed almost de rigueur for years. The man in front of him wore tailored pinstripe charcoal trousers paired with a dove grey button down and supple black leather Oxfords. Steel colored wire glasses accentuated the familiar amber eyes and highlighted the sharp angles of his face. Even the tattoos peeking out of his collar couldn’t distract from the fact that he looked every bit the refined businessman he had become.

“The library is for Sanctuary guests, Liam. You’re welcome to borrow anything you like while you’re here.” Zayn rested a hand on the chair arm as if he intended to stand.

“You don’t have to leave on account of me. I’ll just... “ Liam paused, his train of thought derailed by a familiar item hanging over the back of the sofa. “ Is that-? Where did-?” He walked over and picked up the crocheted afghan. So focused on the object in his hand, he ignored the muttered curse Zayn uttered.

Liam knew the blanket, remembered his mum working on it a few years ago. He’d loved the colors - a warm vibrant combination of jade, sapphire, burgundy, orange, and cream. They’d reminded him of fall and a trip he’d taken into the Tuscan countryside years earlier - a trip he’d taken with the man behind him. He’d secretly hoped it was for his London flat at the time, and had been disappointed when she said she’d given it away. Somehow, finding it here felt like salt being poured into an open wound. He whirled around to stare at Zayn, who now stood behind the chair. Oblivious to the guarded nature of Zayn’s position, Liam struggled to choose one of the dozens of questions that bounced through his mind. He settled on what he thought would provide the easiest answer to swallow.

“Why is my mum’s afghan in your bed and breakfast?”

“It was a gift.” Zayn gripped the back of the chair. “There’s one in almost every room here at Sanctuary.”

“But-” Liam carefully laid the blanket back in its place, “I don’t… why… how did she even know?”

“About the Inn? I told her. On one of our Skype calls. She offered to make them, and I accepted.” Zayn stiffened his shoulders, his words defensive, his tone defiant. “I buy the yarn. It’s all she’ll let me give her for them.”

“Wait… Skype calls?” Liam sat down abruptly. “Exactly how long have you and my mum been in contact?”

“She called me after I - she and my mum -” Zayn paused and took a deep breath, his tone becoming defensive, almost acerbic. “What difference does it make how long it’s been? We don’t talk about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not… You know what? No.” Liam pushed himself to his feet. “I’m not going to fight with you. I want to talk, but not like this. Good night, Zayn.” He swiveled on his heel and strode toward the door. He took the steps to the second floor two at a time, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the library as possible. It wasn’t until he reached his room that he realized that not only had he left the book lying on the sofa, but that Zayn had held a well-worn copy of the same one - _Calling a Wolf a Wolf_.

Zayn sank back down into the chair, a string of muttered epithets falling from his lips. Seeing Liam after all these years had been a shock, and he’d defaulted to his go to reaction of confrontation when forced to face his past. He swiped at the angry tears that welled in his eyes, hating how emotionally weak he felt. Despite knowing Liam was staying at Sanctuary, he’d still been unprepared to handle running into him.

_Fuck!_

He’d been even less prepared for the feelings it dredged up. Zayn’s heart had twisted in his chest when Liam walked into the library. The reality of Liam at Sanctuary hit home in a way the abstract knowledge of his arrival hadn’t. His obvious inattention had given Zayn a chance to catch his breath from the shock, and the time to take stock of the effect of the last ten years on his ex-fiancé.

He’d known Liam was still fit, having devoured every photoshoot and modeling campaign Liam had been featured in over the years- especially the Hugo Boss advert that had graced the billboard outside his New York flat for almost two weeks. Starting the day with Liam’s naked torso and a coffee may have been the best part of that twist of fate, even as he’d struggled with the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one to enjoy the seductive image.

Liam’s thoughtful demeanor had seemed almost out of character, as had the lack of the perpetual smile Zayn remembered from their youth. Even when things were absolute shit, Liam had always managed to find a reason to smile. _For you,_ his conscience interjected. _He always smiled for you_. There’d been no smile tonight, only confrontation and betrayal.

Zayn’s continued friendship with Karen Payne had been unintentional. When he left the group, and Liam, he’d never considered the possibility of she and his mum continuing their friendship. To be honest, he hadn’t considered much of anything, other than trying to hold his shit together enough to make it through another day. But, when he’d relapsed two years after he left the band, Karen had been the one to accompany his mum to the States, Karen who supported his mum during his three months of treatment, and Karen who had lovingly reinserted herself as another maternal figure for him to lean on when his anxiety and depression threatened to get the better of him.

Their first conversation had been tense, filled with tears and recriminations on both sides. Karen had entreated him to reach out to his former friends, to trust Liam with the secrets Zayn had hidden from him, obstinately firm in her insistence that he was wrong to believe they wouldn’t understand his reasons for leaving. Despite her misgivings, she’d also conceded her stance when Zayn begged her to keep the knowledge of his whereabouts secret. In the eight years since, she’d never once betrayed his trust, or reneged on the unspoken agreement that sharing anything about Liam or his life to Zayn was also taboo. The only person who knew the reasons behind Zayn's relapse was his mum, and he wouldn’t burden Karen with the knowledge that it had been Liam who had indirectly caused it - not after the unconditional love and support she’d offered when he needed it the most.

And now their secret was out.

He blew out a heaving breath and pulled his phone from his pocket. With shaking hands he sent a text to his mum, warning her of the impending shit storm he’d unwittingly rained down on her friend. He followed it up with an apology to Karen. It was the best he could do. It was nearly two in the morning in the UK, and both women were likely sound asleep. He could only hope they saw his texts and were prepared for Liam’s inevitable call the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	2. How Do You Breathe Without Dreams?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _Where Do We Go From Here?_ by Ruelle

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

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_“You had your secrets, I had mine,”_ Karen retorted.

“Mum…no.” Liam scrubbed his hand across his face and gripped the phone tighter in an effort to not completely snap on his mother.

He’d been up most of the night, his emotions running the gamut from venomous rage at his mum’s secrecy while Liam had fallen apart over losing Zayn, to gut-wrenching anguish that Zayn obviously hadn’t wanted Liam in his life after all. He once thought he’d shed all the tears he could over Zayn Malik, that he’d finally locked away the memories where they couldn't hurt him anymore. He certainly had never expected his mum to be the one to unleash a Pandora’s box of fresh pain into his life.

“There's a huge damn difference between not talking about the giant pile of shit our lives had become and hiding someone's whereabouts for eight years, Karen Payne, and you damn well know it! He’s a singer, not a Mafia don turned government informant, for Christ's sake!”

 _“Mind your tone with me, Liam James Payne! You may be an adult, but I’m still your mother.”_ Karen snapped back, her anger so palpable Liam was certain he felt it vibrating through the phone lines. His tone turned conciliatory.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s… I just… why? You knew how hard it was for me to have to let go of him without an explanation. How could you keep this from me?”

_“Because it wasn’t my story to tell and he begged me to respect his privacy. I had to make a choice between who would be hurt more, and I hate to tell you this, but protecting Zayn was more important at the time. And as time passed and he healed, you seemed to have moved on. I figured, why dredge up things that were better left in the past?”_

“I loved him.” Liam whispered. “I still love him.”

_“I know you do, sweetheart, and I hate how this is all coming out.”_

“He’s reading the Akbar book, the one my therapist gave me.”

Karen hummed in response, and Liam stifled a groan of frustration. She wasn’t going to make this easy at all.

“Do you know what happened?”

 _“What I know or don’t know is between Zayn and me.”_ Karen paused and Liam heard her take a ragged breath. _“He’s right there, love. Ask him for yourself.”_

“What if he won’t talk to me?”

_“Then you have to respect that. Maybe try just being his friend again. Zayn has very few people he trusts in his life, and confiding in others isn’t easy for him.”_

“It never was,” Liam replied bitterly.

 _“Liam- don't.”_ Karen's retort was quick and brooked no argument. _“I didn't try to talk you out of this trip because I felt certain both of you are mature adults and were ready to talk about what happened. Don't make me regret that decision.”_

“It's hard, Mum. I don't know what I expected, but this place… This home he's created… He's built a whole new life here.” He left the ‘without me’ unspoken, but it hung in the air, a shadowy reminder of all the things he’d been in the dark about for the last ten years.

_“It's what he needed to do for himself.”_

“I - yeah, I guess. Maybe this was a mistake. He’s obviously doing fine, he’s better now, and I have no right to barge in here and fuck that up.”

 _“Liam, sweetheart.”_ Karen sighed. _“You know, if he hadn’t wanted you at Sanctuary, he could have prevented it. All he had to do was refuse the reservation. This is likely just as stressful for him.”_

“Yeah, maybe, but -”

 _“No buts. Now, I hate to cut you off dear, but Roo is on her way over with the baby. I’m going to leave you with this, though. You’re not kids anymore, and you aren’t existing in some crazed fever dream now. Who knows - maybe polite acquaintances is all you’re meant to be. But you need to talk to each other, as adults, and figure that out. So do that. Save the recriminations. They’re ten years too late, and part of another lifetime.”_ Her voice softened. _“I love you, sweetheart, and I love Zayn as if he were one of my own. All I ever wanted is for you both to be happy, even if it meant you weren’t together.”_ Liam could hear the thickness in her voice, the unshed tears she attempted to cough away. _“Now, I really do need to go. I’ll see you in London next week after you come home.”_

The line went dead in Liam’s hand before he could reply to his mother’s parting thoughts. Not that it would have mattered. He doubted he could have articulated his feelings without coming across like an insensitive ass, when it was the last thing he intended. He dropped the phone on the bed and looked around the room, then checked his watch. Barely seven o’clock in the morning, and he’d slept maybe two hours, if that. No way was he going to attempt a run, not on unfamiliar terrain, not when he was too tired to function. All he really wanted was to take one of the sleeping pills he usually avoided like the plague, then crawl back under the covers until reality sorted itself out. He flopped backward on the bed and stared at the ceiling until his eyes started to cross from the strain.

“Well this is a fine fucking mess of a disaster, innit?” he said out loud, glad there was no one there to answer.

Louis had been against the trip from the moment Liam had mentioned it. He’d insisted it’d be better for Liam to let sleeping dogs lie, but he had ignored the warning and barrelled on with his plans. Liam could hear the _‘I told you so_ ’ from 3500 miles away just as clearly as if Louis stood right next to him. He also hated the possibility of having to admit that Louis had probably been right. Again. As usual.

And then he remembered Harry’s response - Harry who had been so angry and sad that he’d broken down in tears on stage after Zayn left, who had been the one stuck talking about it whenever Zayn’s leaving came up during interviews in those first six months, and who, despite his personal feelings regarding Zayn and his leaving, had supported Liam’s decision with a hug and an admonishment to “do what you need to do.”

It was that, more than anything else, that had him walking in to take a shower and face the day, whatever it might bring.

After a full English breakfast in the dining room, Liam stopped in the lobby to see what the tourist brochures offered in the way of local attractions. He found a signboard advertising tours of the winery and tasting room. The tours ran every other hour, on the hour, with the first one scheduled to begin at one that afternoon. It left him with the better part of four hours to kill beforehand. Too weary to ponder other options, he returned to his room. He paused to hang the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob, then drew the blinds and crawled under the covers. Sleep. He needed sleep. He may be willing to let things play out however the chips might fall, but he was also damn well going to ensure he was rested enough to face it.

Liam woke before his alarm, slightly disoriented at having slept away the morning. He reached for his phone and checked the time. A quarter to noon. He had enough time to grab a bite to eat before he walked across the grounds to the winery. He re-entered the dining room to find it bustling with several groups of people, some guests, others obviously there for the tour. Lissie waved to him, but appeared far too busy to stop by for a chat. Liam checked the options and settled on a Cobb salad with the soup of the day, a pumpkin and apple bisque, made from fruits and vegetables grown at the inn. It didn’t disappoint

The tour proved to be even more interesting than he’d expected, the guide a wealth of knowledge on the methods used in the various stages of the development of the wines and the assorted varietals crafted at Rising Phoenix. Liam had hung to the back of the small group of ten tourists, relying on a ball cap and his glasses to provide enough of a disguise to hide his identity. The average age of the group hovered near to his Mum’s, but he’d learned a long time ago to err on the side of caution. His music had appealed to a much younger demographic, but One Direction’s fans had transcended the norm - and Lissie and Lauren were proof enough that he was still recognizable.

The tour wrapped up in the tasting room. Liam looked around at the displays, but passed on actually sampling any of the wines. He still had an occasional drink or glass of wine, but given his past issues with alcohol, he stayed mindful, and the run in with Zayn the night before, coupled with the revelations brought to light in the aftermath, had left his nerves more than a little frayed. He needed to evaluate things with a clear head, instead of resorting to a crutch that promised oblivion without solutions.

Nonetheless, he planned to revisit the tasting room before he returned to London. The Merlot Reserve had more than lived up to Lissie’s hype, and he didn’t doubt that the other wines would do the same.

Retracing his steps to Sanctuary, Liam was sidetracked by the sight of a barn tucked alongside a fenced pasture. Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped through the open doors, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the diminished light. He happened upon a young woman mucking out the stalls.

“Can I help you?” she stared at him curiously, and Liam couldn’t help but notice the familiar flicker of dawning realization crep into her eyes.

“I was out walking and saw the open doors. Is it alright if I-” he gestured toward the stalls.

“Of course! Feel free. I’m Nadia. Just give a shout if you need anything. The horses are used to visitors.” She busied herself again with tending the stalls, surreptitiously eyeing him from under the thick cascade of hair that fell over her shoulder.

WIth a fervent hope that the NDAs were an effective deterrent, he strolled along the stalls to check out the animals housed inside. A large white horse nickered and walked over to the door of its stall. It stretched its neck out to nudge Liam’s shoulder as he walked by, and Liam stopped to stroke the animal’s muzzle. In hushed whispers, he praised the beast, almost laughing aloud when the horse whinnied and shook its head, seemingly to encourage Liam to continue admiring him. The many side glances Nadia shot in his direction didn’t go unnoticed either. She quickly looked away when Liam met her eyes, but if her knowing nod and smile were anything to go by, he’d obviously singled out Zayn’s horse. The thought amused and disturbed him. Were they still that much in sync? All these years later?

Liam spent an hour inside the stables, unaware of the changing weather outside, until the sound of rain clattered on the tin roof. He looked to the open doors, surprised to find it pissing down. He walked over and watched it fall, the crisp clean cold of the rain a striking contrast to the earthy warmth of the room behind him. He stepped aside when Nadia approached.

“Am I in the way? I can clear out.”

“No, you’re fine. I just want to pull one of the doors closed to keep some of the dampness out. Feel free to stay as long as you want.”

She tugged on the door, cursing lowly when it wouldn’t budge. Liam stifled a laugh at her colorful choice of words and reached over to give her a hand in drawing it shut. The two of them stood side by side in the remaining opening and watched the rain fall.

“Sanctuary guests are welcome to ride the horses,” she offered conversationally. “You know, if you’re interested in taking one out when the weather clears.” She tilted her head toward the stalls. “Well, except for Cool. He’s the white one on the end you were talking to. He belongs to Mr. Malik, and Cool’s a bit particular about who rides him.” She looked up then, a shared look of understanding passing between them. So he’d been right about the horse.

Nadia left him there, returning back to her stable work, and Liam hovered in the door to wait for a break in the downpour. When it finally came, he rushed back to his room in the freezing drizzle. The short run left him soaked and chilled to the bone and he took a hot shower, donning a comfortable pair of joggers and a thick sweatshirt to combat the remaining chill. He visited the dining room for another delicious meal and contemplated returning to the library, but feared another run-in with Zayn. Deciding he wasn’t emotionally prepared to risk it again, he decided to settle in with his laptop for a Netflix binge. There were a couple of series he wanted to catch up on, and he had nothing else to occupy his time. Despite the return of the clouds, the threatening storms held off the remainder of the evening, and Liam holed up his room for the night. He pulled up the first show and hit play, but beyond that, he’d be hard-pressed to tell any more about what he watched. Instead, he mulled over the day. Despite the rocky start, it had been largely uneventful and calm. He’d seen no sign of Zayn, though, and Liam worried that their encounter from the night before had prompted him to leave Rising Phoenix for the duration of Liam’s stay. He sincerely hoped not. Above and beyond not being able to clear the air between them, the last thing Liam wanted to do was upend the life Zayn had built for himself at the vineyard.

The second day dawned with the heavy threat of rain, and Liam risked a return trip to the library to find the book he’d left behind when he’d run into Zayn the night of his arrival. He found it on an end table next to the sofa where he’d dropped it, the afghan from his mum neatly folded and returned to its place of honor. He also pulled a John le Carre’ book he’d been meaning to read, carried both to his room, then spent the rest of the morning curled up in a chair in front of the fire, reading. He skipped lunch in favor of a nap, the light drizzle that streaked the windows lulling him into an easy doze. By mid-afternoon, the drizzle had turned into a full blown storm, complete with jagged streaks of lightning piercing the sky, followed by crashing thunder that rattled the glass in the French doors. He enjoyed another five star meal in the dining room, disappointed to find Lissie off for the evening. He encountered some of the other guests while he was eating - a young couple so lost in each other, they seemed oblivious to anyone else in the room, and a chatty middle-aged couple on a second honeymoon to celebrate their silver wedding anniversary. The woman stared at Liam as if trying to place his face, but he felt certain she hadn’t made the connection. He retreated once more to his room, burrowing into the enveloping luxury of the down comforter to drift off to sleep.

He woke early the next morning, refreshed and eager for a run, only to find the weather would keep him confined to the inn again. He pushed the curtains aside to find the view from the window blurred by torrential rain that continued to suffocate the vineyard in its steely cold onslaught. He stood for a moment, staring out into the bleak darkness, wavering between disappointment and relief. Missing a run wouldn’t be the end of the world, and who knew when he’d have the chance in the foreseeable future to vegetate without interruptions, to simply exist without being driven to frenzied attainment. With the flick of a switch, he ignited the fireplace, the wavering burnished flames the only light in the consuming darkness that filled the room, incandescent warmth creating a cosy shelter. He picked up the afghan hanging over the back of the divan - another one of his mum’s creations, no doubt - and draped it around his shoulders, before settling into the chair drawn up next to the french doors. His attention was captured by the droplets racing down the misted panes, rushing to unknown destinations, merging and dispersing like a busy roadway at rush hour. Rain drummed on the roof, the staccato rhythm cocooning him in a lulling tranquility. And there he sat as the sky slowly lightened, the autumn sun unable to break the stranglehold of the tumultuous storm that raged on.

His phone rang shortly before noon, a blaring imposition on his serenity. He checked the number and groaned. His management team. He pushed a button to silence the intrusion, sending the call to voicemail. He knew there wasn’t anything pressing on his diary; he’d cleared most of it prior to his trip. Before he’d left for the States, his PA had made him promise to relax, assuring him she could handle anything that came up. If there was a true emergency, she’d call, but short of his home burning to the ground, he doubted he’d hear from her at all.

The weather cleared in the afternoon and Liam donned his trainers to chance a foray out into the late autumn afternoon for a run, marveling yet again at the pastoral splendor of the place Zayn had chosen to make his home.

The countryside was bathed in light, the saturated gravel and puddles tangible reminders of the storms that had buffeted the inn for the previous two days. He slowed to a walk on his return, meandering slowly back to the inn. Taking advantage of the clearing skies, he eschewed the entrance in favor of following an arrowed sign directing guests toward a walled garden behind the main building. He opened the gate and peered inside, finding it blissfully empty. A weight on the gate pulled it shut behind him, the silence broken by a metallic rattle from the latch as it settled back into place. He stood still, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. The crisp air filled his lungs, peaceful solitude quieted his soul. He slowly opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings. A cobbled walkway traversed away from the gate and appeared to lead directly to the center, while auxiliary paths spoked out to either side, allowing for a more leisurely stroll. Non-flowering bushes created a border hedge, and the fallen leaves had been raked into orderly piles in the spaces between.

Liam set off on the path and allowed the garden to swallow him up in its late season beauty. Bare branches scraped against each other in the brisk breeze that danced amongst them, the remaining leaves a vibrant, mosaic palette. Stately trees surrounded the outer wall, towering guardians of the secrets concealed within. Liam turned to the right and slowly strolled along the path that appeared to spiral toward the center. The beds were mostly fallow, filled with little more than ivy, only remnants of hardier flowers left behind as a testament to the glory of their halcyon summer beauty. A bench tucked away in a sheltered pergola offered him a place to sit and bask in the late afternoon sun and he welcomed the solace and respite from the chaos that reigned in his mind.

He had been on the go for the majority of the last year while he and the boys worked on their new album. They’d taken every precaution to record in out of the way places where none of them would be recognised. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d done it. While it had been worth it to maintain the secrecy, the long flights and subterfuge had been physically and emotionally draining. Flying to Pennsylvania to find Zayn had also provided Liam the perfect opportunity to disappear before the chaos ensued.

Liam stretched out on the bench. He found it easy to empty his mind, and left his phone tucked away in his pocket, content in the silence, with no pressing need to fill it with music to distract him. It was only once the evening air turned from cool to cold, and the sun had already slid far below the horizon, that he reluctantly left his bucolic haven to return to the reality that awaited him outside it’s gate.

The remnants of a nightmare dragged Liam awake in the pre-dawn hours of his fourth day at Rising Phoenix. While he couldn’t recall exactly what he’d dreamed, feelings of anxiety clawed at his chest, his throat so constricted with fear that he fought to catch his breath. With shaking hands, he shoved himself out of bed. Eschewing the bedside lamp, he pushed open the drapes to allow the feeble, muted light of the rising sun in to dispel the darkness. Liam dressed quickly, desperate to escape the room and the lingering remnants of panic that clung like silken cobwebs ensnaring his mind. Too winded to contemplate a run, he settled for taking a walk. After pulling on a pair of jeans and a light jumper, he looked for his shoes, frowning at the trainers he’d left near the door and silently wished he’d remembered to bring a pair of hiking boots. _Nothing to be done about it now_ , he thought to himself, as he tied them up. He paused at the dresser to slip his room key into his pocket, then moved quickly through the inn, offering a nod of acknowledgement to the cheery good morning from the desk clerk as he exited the quiet building.

The temperature had dropped substantially overnight, leaving the fields and paddock shrouded in a thick fog, the early frost on the grass crunching under his feet as he walked out across the lawn. The sun hadn’t risen high enough to begin burning it off, and the barn loomed as a hazy amorphous shadow on the edge of the fields. Liam moved toward it, hoping the peace and quiet of the stables would help clear his mind and settle the anxiety that still pulled at his chest. It never occurred to him that he might not be the only one visiting the stables so early. The doors stood open and he entered to find Zayn with his back to him, busy saddling Cool for an early morning ride.

Liam hesitated at the door, uncertain if he should still enter. Zayn answered the question for him.

“Do you ride?” Zayn tightened the girth on the saddle, and turned to face Liam.

“I… yeah. A bit. I learned a few years ago when I funded a dressage team.” Liam scuffed the toe of his trainer in the loose hay that lay scattered on the floor.

“Travesty is a gentle ride.” Zayn nodded toward a stall containing a large dappled grey stallion.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“If you were intruding, I wouldn’t ask.” Zayn looped Cool’s reins over the saddle and walked to Travesty’s stall. He reached for the latch, then looked at Liam expectantly.

“Oh. Well - uhhmmm - then, yeah, sure.” He looked around the stable, and noticed an ajar door. He nodded in it’s direction. “Tack room?”

Zayn exited the stall with Travesty on a lead and brought him to Liam. “Here.” He handed over the lead, their fingers brushing in the exchange, and Liam shivered at the casual touch. Zayn jerked his hand away from the contact and stepped back. “I’ll get his tack. Take a couple minutes to get to know him first.”

Liam watched Zayn walk away, only turning his attention back to the horse when Travesty shifted and bumped against him.

Liam tightened his grip and rubbed his hand down the horse’s neck. “Who’s the handsome boy, then?”

Travesty nickered and shook out his mane in an almost vain garner for Liam’s affections, then bowed his head lower to press into Liam’s touch. The two looked each other over, Liam stroking the horse and praising him. “There’s a good lad. And here I am without a treat for such a good boy.”

“He has a horrible sweet tooth and is quite partial to an occasional sugar cube.” Zayn said, as he approached with the saddle. Liam took it from him and hefted it up onto the horse, adjusting the straps and tightening the girth. Zayn nodded at Liam’s work, then handed over the bridle and a few sugar cubes. “Nadia keeps a secret stash in the tack room that I don’t think I’m supposed to know about. Give him a couple before you put the bit in and he’ll be your best friend.”

Liam nodded and moved to the horse’s head, doing as he was told. He scratched between Travesty’s eyes and down his muzzle, then settled the bit in place, careful not to pull on the horse’s mouth overmuch.

“There’s a good lad.” Travesty knickered again and Cool returned the sound with a shaking nod of his head. Liam patted the horse’s neck and looped the reins around his hand. “Gonna have a bit of a ride with your mate over there? Show me ‘round your home?”

He led the horse outside and mounted, turning to find Zayn already seated on Cool and waiting on the other side of the stableyard.

“Good?”

“Yeah, ‘m good.”

“There’s some trails that lead through that copse and over the hill. We can give them a bit of a run on the other side.” Zayn clicked at Cool with a gentle tug on his reins and led the way. Liam directed Travesty to follow and settled easily into the saddle, content to let the day go where it may.

Zayn hadn’t had to turn around to know Liam stood at the door of the stables. Even ten years on, he just _knew_. While he might have been the last person Zayn expected to find in his stables at seven in the morning, it came as no surprise. Of course Liam would find the animals; he’d always said they understood him better than humans. Zayn didn’t find his presence the intrusion he’d expected it to be, either. Though that was more likely due to his mum ripping into him about being an ass when he’d told her about the confrontation with Liam in the library. He’d had to look at the missteps he’d made that night, and knew he hadn’t been particularly fair to Liam, not when the other man was being confronted with the knowledge that his own mum had been lying to him for years.

Trisha had scolded him for being defensive, and Zayn knew she’d been right. Liam had tried to gracefully leave both times he’d encountered Zayn, obviously trying to respect any boundaries Zayn had, even if Liam didn’t know what they were. Even still, he was grateful for the narrow trail that prevented them riding abreast, ensuring that they couldn’t comfortably talk. The early hour and shrouded landscape also invoked solitude and peace, and he knew Liam wouldn’t be the first to break it.

[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/955f19c6-c46b-4619-af31-f00a15f89eaf)

Zayn could see the trepidation in Liam’s reactions to him, and to be honest, he hated it. From the moment they first met, they’d been casual and in each other’s spaces - even before their relationship had started - and now Liam hesitated to move anywhere into his orbit. Even if he couldn’t have back what they’d once shared, Zayn missed his friend. He just had to figure out how to get there.

The trees thinned around the trail, giving way to the hill that overlooked his property. He led the way to its crest, then brought Cool to a stop and waited for Liam and Travesty to join them.

Liam rode up next to him and also reined in his horse. He looked around at the fields spread out below them, turning to see how far they’d ridden from the inn and the winery, and let loose a low whistle.

“Is it all yours?”

“Pretty much everything you can see from here, yes. Rising Phoenix encompasses approximately fifty acres, though only fifteen are dedicated to the vineyard. At one point, according to information I found when researching the property’s history, it was a large farm, a few hundred acres, with a dairy. That’s why there’s so much pasture land. Unfortunately it fell into disarray back around the turn of last century, and was sold off in smaller plats.” Zayn pointed to another wooded area. “Beyond that second copse is a small creek that empties into the Susquehanna. It’s a bit barren right now, but come spring and summer it’s indescribable.”

“I’m sure. It’s beautiful, even now.”

Liam continued to look around, and Zayn tried to look at the view from his perspective. He couldn’t help the sense of pride that filled him. This was his. He’d built it, some of it literally with his own two hands. He pointed to another copse of trees in the opposite direction, down the gentle side of the hill and across a rolling pasture.

“I’ll meet you over there. The ground’s solid; it’s safe to let him run.” And with that, he clicked at Cool, nudging him with his heels, then snapped the reins. “Get up, boy! Go on!”

He took off without a backward glance, basking in the strength and power of the animal beneath him and the sharp rush of wind reddening his cheeks. He let loose an exultant whoop, then settled into the horse’s gait. He and Cool did this almost every morning, and the horse knew the routine. Cool raced along the edge of the field, then turned to double back the way they’d come. With a last burst, he dashed to the trees, slowing as they approached. He heard Liam encouraging Travesty to follow, and the pair paced them along their path, arriving right behind Zayn and Cool. Liam’s eyes shone, excitement radiating from his every movement when he pulled Travesty to a halt. A bright smile graced his lips, joy encompassing his entire demeanor. Zayn felt his chest flip at the familiar exuberance that melted away the wear of the years they’d spent apart. Seeing him relaxed here, in the place that gave Zayn the greatest peace, somehow seemed karmic, given their history. Liam looked like the eager, wide-eyed man his heart remembered, and he found himself unwilling to let it go too soon.

He loosened his hold on the reins nudging Cool to a slow walk so his muscles wouldn’t tighten. “Did you have breakfast before you left the inn?”

“No, I… I didn’t sleep well and wanted to clear my head before I went to the dining room.” Liam turned Travesty and brought him up next to Zayn and Cool.

“Let’s get these boys settled back in their home, and then you’re welcome to join me.” Zayn stared at the horizon, almost afraid to hear Liam’s response.

“Yeah. I mean, so long as it’s not an imposition. I hate eating alone.”

“That’s because we spent five years fending off three other people from our plates.”

He felt a smile tease the corners of his mouth, and relaxed when he glanced at Liam to see him grinning in response. It was the first time he’d casually mentioned his experience in the band since he’d left it, and he found it wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d thought it would be. Then again, there were only four other people that had even a clue what those years had been like, and no one else in his life would have understood.

“We’ll take the long way round to give them a chance to cool down.” Zayn turned Cool toward the fields and pointed out an unpaved road that ran between them. “Come on.”

He took a slow breath to compose himself and waited for Liam to turn Travesty around and join him. They returned to the stables in a companionable silence that reminded Zayn of a time when life seemed simpler, even as it was imploding around them.

Nadia met them at the barn doors and reached for Travesty’s bridle when Liam dismounted. She glanced between Liam and Zayn, who was busy tending to Cool, and Liam cursed the blush rising in his cheeks. Nothing had happened, and yet the whole morning seemed monumental to him. He turned away from her bright smile, certain the morning’s ride had already been discussed and dissected amongst the staff. By the end of the morning, they’d have plenty more to add to the conversation. Liam also knew that, thankfully, that knowledge wouldn’t go any further than the boundaries of Rising Phoenix.

“Do you need help?” Nadia asked.

Liam tried to recall what he knew about after care, and shrugged. “Maybe just double-check to make sure I’m doing it right? It’s been a while.”

“Start with loosening up his cinch and let him have a drink while you’re removing his tack.”

Nadia watched him tend to Travesty, while Liam furtively snuck glances at Zayn and mirrored his care for Cool. She showed him the proper way to rub Travesty down and when he finished, she nodded her approval. They turned the horses out into the paddock and Liam leaned on the fence to watch them interact with the other horses.

Zayn rested a hand on Liam’s arm. “Give me a minute to sign off on the feed order, and we can go eat.”

Liam’s stomach fluttered at the casual touch. He nodded, unable to form a coherent response. He looked back over his shoulder to watch Zayn follow Nadia into the barn, then returned his attention to the horses. He let loose the breath he felt like he’d been holding since he first saw Zayn that morning. He replayed it all in his head, desperate not to forget a single second of their time together.

“All taken care of. You ready?”

Lost in recollection, Liam startled at the sound of Zayn’s voice and quickly spun around. “You scared the shit out of me! Guess I forgot where I was. Yeah, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Liam pushed off the fence and turned to walk the path to the inn.

“No, this way Li.” Zayn grabbed his arm and turned him around, pointing toward a small two story cottage on the opposite side of the barn. “I called up to the inn to tell them not to hold breakfast for you if the other guests have already eaten. I can cook at my place.”

“You don’t live in the inn?” Liam asked while they crossed the yard.

Zayn shook his head. “Not anymore. I did for nearly two years, though. After the renovations on the main house were finished and we began taking bookings, I realized I needed a space of my own. I had the cottage gutted to the studs, and hired an architect to help me rework the space.”

He unlocked the door and stepped back to allow Liam to enter in front of him. Bemused, Liam stepped through and stopped short. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it.

He found himself looking over a great room that dominated the entire space. A step down led to the main living area that filled the center of the room. A curved black sofa and cream armchairs filled the main seating area, while giant throw pillows lay scattered on the floor in front of the fireplace, a large screen TV hanging over top of it. The space spoke to the indescribable wealth and luxury their lifestyles had given them, while still feeling decidedly homey and welcoming.

Behind the space, the floor stepped back up into a kitchen area that curved away across the back of the house. Stainless steel appliances gleamed in the late morning sun streaming through the wall of windows behind the dining area. A long island divided the space from the living area, giving the illusion of separate rooms while still retaining the airy open feel. Black leather and chrome barstools were tucked under one end of the island, while a nearby walnut trestle dining suite offered enough seating to accommodate Zayn’s family, again reflecting the simplicity they’d all come from before the fame they’d achieved.

Liam looked around, almost speechless. “I never imagined… I mean, from the outside, I expected something… I guess, smaller? You designed this?”

Zayn ducked his head and blushed. “Well yeah. But definitely with a lot of help from an architect and an interior designer. I knew I wanted as much open space as possible, so the architect was needed to ensure the integrity of the structure.” Zayn waved his hand to encompass the room. “It’s why the columns and railing surround the living room. It allowed for a division of space, and support for upstairs, without closing things off.”

“It absolutely works.”

“The loo is the second door to the right of the entryway if you need it. It’s shared between the two guest rooms down here.”

Zayn brushed past him with a soft hand on Liam’s waist and walked around toward the kitchen. He continued talking but Liam didn’t hear a word of it. He remained in the entryway, slowly turning to take everything in.

“Liam?”

Liam snapped around with a sheepish laugh. “Yeah. Sorry. Got lost in my head a bit.”

“I asked if eggs were okay? I have some sausage and bread I can toast, too.”

“Anything’s fine. Don’t go to any trouble.”

“Well, it won’t be quite on par with the inn’s offering, which I could have brought down if you prefer.” Zayn reached for the phone.

“No honestly, eggs are great. That and some toast will be more than enough. Anything I can do to help?” Liam joined him in the kitchen, leaning against the opposite side of the island.

Zayn shrugged. “Just relax. I’ve got it. Take a look around if you want. The garage and laundry are through the hall under the stairs.”

“And upstairs?" Liam asked, leaning back to take in the large skylights in the roof. The upstairs only covered the raised area of the downstairs, with the same columns and railing coming around to meet the banister on the stairs that curved down to the left side of the main floor.

That’s… um… my space, essentially.” Zayn cracked eggs in a bowl and whipped them, then set it aside. He pulled some vegetables from the fridge and began chopping them while butter sizzled and melted in the frying pan on the cooktop. “My bedroom and office are up there. I have doors that slide across to close it off for privacy, but I prefer to keep it open when I’m here alone.”

Liam nodded, shoving the unbidden image of Zayn in bed out of his mind. He wandered over to the windows and took in the broad view of the Shenandoah countryside that filled the horizon. Liam felt certain he’d never seen anything more peaceful in his entire life.

A sharp whistle had Liam jerking back around toward the kitchen. A loud thud hit the floor upstairs, followed by the sound of an animal ‘s nails scrabbling for purchase, only to gallump down the stairs. Liam laughed when a blue pit bull tumbled off them and into the kitchen. The animal stopped short at Zayn’s feet and sat down hard.

“That’s… It couldn’t be-”

“Harley? No. He’s been gone a couple years now.” Zayn tossed a piece of bell pepper to the dog. “He’s from the same breeder, though, and probably the same gene line. I got him last year to keep me company.” Zayn scraped the vegetables into the pan, then squatted down to pet the dog. “Quinn, this is Liam. Don’t love him to death.”

Liam laughed again.

“Don’t laugh. He nearly knocked Doni on her arse last month because he wanted to sit in her lap.” Zayn gestured to a cupboard under the island. “His treats are in there. Not too many, though. The vet says he needs to lose some weight.” He washed his hands and returned his attention to the food.

Liam opened the cupboard door and found a jar with small treats, as well as boxes of dog biscuits. Quinn watched his every move, his stubby tail thumping on the floor. He pulled out a biscuit and a few treats, then knelt down across from the dog. He placed the biscuit in front of his knees and waited. Quinn crouched down and scooched forward until he reached the biscuit, his tail wagging so hard his whole body shook.

Liam burst out laughing. “Go on then, you silly thing.” The dog snatched up the biscuit and gobbled it down, then wriggled over to lean against Liam and gaze at him adoringly.

“He’ll pester you to death until you give him the rest,” Zayn said, while he added the eggs to the pan.

Liam hummed in response, his attention focused on the animal. “Here you go, boy.” Liam spread the treats on the floor and scratched the dog’s head. He stood and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. “Smells good,” he observed.

“Just some quick omelets. Coffee should be ready. The cups are in the cupboard over the pot. Pour me one, too, please.”

Liam did as asked and brought the mugs over to the Island. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Sugar’s in the center , just there.” Zayn replied. He opened the refrigerator and removed the milk, handing it to Liam, then flipped the eggs.

“Go on then, sit. It’s done.”

They ate together and talked about their families, Zayn filling Liam in on the details about his sisters.

Liam started talking about Ruth’s wedding, then stopped with a sigh. “You already know this stuff. There’s no way my mum never mentioned it.”

“She has, but it’s fine.”

“Nah, it’s not important, not really.”

“Then what is important, Liam?” Zayn pushed his plate away and turned toward the man next to him. “You had to do a lot of piecing together to find me, so… Why are you here?”

Liam shrugged. “I don’t know.” he stared at his plate until it swam before his eyes. “We recorded an album. Me and the lads. It comes out in three weeks.”

“That’s uh… Congratulations, I guess, but I still don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

Zayn’s phone rang before Liam could answer. Zayn cursed and dragged it from his pocket, then cursed again. Zayn answered the phone, asking whoever was on the other end to hold for a minute. “I have to take this, and it’s going to take a while, but we’re not done talking.”

“Do what you have to.” Liam stood and gathered the plates. “I’ll do the washing up and head out.”

“Don’t worry about it, just pile them in the sink.” Zayn stood and moved toward the stairs, the phone still tucked against his neck. “I’ll call when I’m done, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have anything planned, just some reading. And I need to call my management, I’ve been avoiding them.” Liam waved him away and turned to the sink, relief filling him at the reprieve from having to talk about his reasons for being there. Hopefully, by the time Zayn asked again, he’d figure out how to explain something he didn’t quite understand himself.

Zayn walked up the steps, sighing when he heard the front door close. This call was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. Not when he had a chance to fix something he regretted from his past. “Bollocks,” he muttered to himself, as he settled behind his desk. He put the phone back to his ear and addressed the man on the other end of the call. “Alright Mark, I’m back. What the fuck’s going on now?”

Three hours later found him still on the call, his patience at the end of its tether.

_“Look, Zayn, I’ve tried everything I possibly could to prevent you having to make the trip to the city; I know how much you hate leaving the vineyard. If there were any other way -”_

“No, Mark, I know. It’s just - this week? The timing couldn’t have been worse.” Mark had been Zayn’s attorney for years, was someone he trusted implicitly, but even he didn’t know the truth about Liam. “There’s - I just have a lot going on right now. Is it going to take long?”

_“No, I promise. Two days, tops. We need a day for prep, and the day for the deposition. Cowell’s attorneys want it done before Friday. If you can come up tonight, we can do prep tomorrow, and I’ll insist that the deposition be done first thing in the morning Thursday. I can limit their questions, and the timeframe. It’s all bullshit, anyway. I don’t know a single judge in the state of New York that would uphold this filing.”_

“I’m leaving Thursday afternoon. I don’t give a shit if we’re in the middle of the deposition. I’m walking out of the office at three o’clock. Understood?”

 _“Absolutely.”_ Zayn heard typing in the background. _“I’ll have Molly stress the timetable to opposing counsel when we send over the confirmation.”_

“I’m bringing a case of her favorite Cabernet. Tell her it’s hers if she gets me out of there by noon.”

Zayn heard shuffling in the background, then Mark’s voice was replaced with that of his paralegal.

_“I want to go on the record as stating that we pushed for a phone deposition. Cowell’s attorneys are the ones who demanded it be face to face, at his directive. Pardon my language, but the man lives to twist the fucking knife whenever possible.”_

Zayn laughed. “Your efforts are duly noted, Molls. You know you’ll still get the wine. I know this isn’t yours or Mark’s fault. Now let your boss have the phone back so we can wrap this up and I can call Tabitha to make sure the flat’s aired out before I get there.”

Mark returned to the call. _“Eventually he’s going to run out of shit to hold over your head Zayn.”_

“No,” a bitter chuckle escaped Zayn. “He’s still got one ace in the hole, and he knows it. It’s why he still pulls the strings and I dance.”

_“You could always preempt him. If you come-”_

Zayn cut him off. “No. That’s a decision that affects more than me and my life, and I won’t drag others into the media circus it would create.”

_“Well maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll fuck off after the courts send him packing again this time.”_

“I won’t hold my breath.” Zayn rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was already two-thirty, and he still needed to make arrangements for Quinn while he was gone. _Maybe he could…_ He pushed the thought away before it took hold, and realized Mark was still talking.

_“...and the trust you requested for your niece is ready for your signature. We can catch that tomorrow, too.”_

“Anything else?”

_“No, I think that’s everything. We’ll see you in the morning. Drive safely.”_

The call disconnected and Zayn tossed his phone on the desk with a growl of annoyance. He may have gotten out from under Simon’s thumb, but the tyrant still found ways to fuck with Zayn every couple of years. The latest attempt was claiming Sony and Syco had a right to Zayn’s intellectual property under the terms of his original contract with One Direction. Mark had filed for, and been granted, a petition to expedite the case, arguing that the whole thing was punitive and without merit. Hence the depositions and the hearing on Friday. The entire suit was bullshit, and Zayn wasn’t giving the bastard another fucking penny. Simon’s timing, as always, was fucking impeccable, though, even when he had no clue what was going on in Zayn’s private life. And now Zayn had to call Liam and try to explain why he was leaving without breaking the gag order attached to the case.

“Fucking hell!”

Quinn whined from where he lay sprawled on the carpet in the middle of the room.

“No, not you, buddy.” Zayn called him over and scratched behind his ears. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The pup looked up at him adoringly, his entire body wriggling with the force of his wagging tail. “Don’t even try it. I saw you snuggling up to Liam this morning. Contrary little shit. You’ll roll over for anyone with treats, won’t you?”

As if on cue, Quinn did just that, flopping over so Zayn could scratch his stomach. He obliged, laughing at the ridiculously expressive look of contentment on the pup’s face.

“Alright then, go settle now.” He scratched between Quinn’s eyes one last time, then sat back up. A bit of movement outside the window caught his attention, and he saw Liam wandering out of the arboured entrance of the expansive English garden and back toward the inn. This late in the year, most of the flowers had already died off, only the decorative hedges of holly, bayberry, and boxwood lending any color to the dormant beds. From a distance, Zayn couldn’t see Liam’s face, but he recognized the slow gait, slumped shoulders and dropped head. He’d already witnessed it on two separate occasions, in the library a few nights ago and this morning in the living room, both times when Liam had been lost in thought and unaware of his surroundings. Seeing Liam introspective and withdrawn felt foreign, and he struggled to reconcile it with his memories of Liam ten years ago. Had Liam really changed that much? Louis had always ragged on Liam for being too serious, but Zayn had never really thought he was. Or, and what was all the more likely, Liam never really showed that side of himself to Zayn. Either way, he found it discomfiting. Even worse, he wasn’t sure what to do to change it, and that opened up a whole different avenue of self-doubt, one that he didn’t dare venture down without guidance. With a heavy sigh he picked up his phone and called the only unbiased person he could think of that knew the whole story.

“Dr. Banyan at New Beginnings! This is Eli, how may I help you?” A cheerful voice smiled through the phone and Zayn took a calming breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	3. Make Believe. Re-write History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from the lyrics of _Hurt_ by Lady Antebellum

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

* * *

Liam lay stretched out on the divan, his legs tossed over the arm, and one of the pillows from the bed tucked under his head. Akbar’s book rested upside down and open on his stomach. He’d been there for the better part of two hours after a walk through the gardens had failed to give him the solace he sought. He’d turned to the book, hoping the familiar lines that had carried him through so much of his mental healing would offer him some new clarity. It wasn’t the collection in his hand that felt relevant now, though. Not really. Instead, straggling lines from another poem drifted through his head, grossly out of sequence, yet somehow deeply pertinent to the miasma consuming his mind.

_Every person I touch cost me ten million I’ll never meet._

_There are no good kings, only beautiful palaces._

_I couldn’t dream of doing anything by halves. Whatever it is, I’ll take the whole bouquet._

The ringing of his room phone jolted him out of his mental funk, forestalling a trip down a rabbit hole full of regrets. He rolled off the divan and stumbled to the desk, expecting it to be someone from the hotel staff.

“‘Lo?”

The softened Bradford accent that replied was the last thing he expected and he tightened his grip on the phone in fear of dropping it in his confusion.

 _“Liam? Oh good, you’re there. Hey. It’s uhm, it’s me.”_ The simple statement was delivered with an apparent self-deprecating laugh. _“I wasn’t sure if you’d be in your room and I don’t have your cell. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”_

“No. No. Just chilling. Enjoying the peace and quiet.”

 _“Good. Good. It’s what we hope our guests find when they stay here.”_ Another wry laugh. _“I sound like a fucking commercial.”_

Liam chuckled in response. “Nah. Just proud of what you built. You deserve to be. It’s all good. Did you get everything sorted with your call?”

_“Uh. Not exactly. I’m going to have to go to New York to resolve things.”_

“Oh? Like soon or something?” Liam settled his ass against the desk and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. He flipped through the pile of tourist brochures, more interested in the scenic photographs than the actual attractions advertised.

_“Like, now. I have to meet with my attorney first thing in the morning.”_

Liam stopped, the Hershey Park pamphlet forgotten in his hand. “Oh.”

 _“I’m so sorry, Liam. If it were up to me - if I had a choice, I wouldn’t be making this trip. Not while you’re here.”_ Zayn sounded truly apologetic.

“Things come up. You have a business, and a career, to deal with.” Liam quashed his disappointment, hoping it wasn’t obvious in his voice. “I have to do it too, and I know it’s a balancing act. I get it.”

 _“I’ll be back as soon as everything is dealt with. The attorney said it shouldn’t take more than two days.”_ Zayn paused and Liam heard him sigh. _“I’d ask you to come with me, but the flat’s in the middle of the city. The press and stalkers stake it out on occasion, and under the circumstances...”_

“No, it’s better for everyone if I just stay here at Sanctuary.” Liam bit back his own sigh. “My room’s booked for five more days. I’m going to enjoy the peace and quiet while it’s available. It’ll be gone soon enough.”

_“It’ll be late by the time I get in, but I’ll call when I get to New York.”_

Liam tightened his grip on the phone, his other hand plucking at the seam on his jeans. It sounded more like a question than a statement, and the last thing he wanted was for Zayn to feel like staying in contact was an obligation.

“You don’t have to; I’m sure you’ll be busy. I’ll see you when you get back.”

 _“I want to call.”_ Liam felt a beat of hesitation and bit his lip. God, did he want Zayn to call, but… _“I mean, if it’s okay.”_ Zayn’s words came in a rush, as if desperate to fill the gaping void between them. _“We can pick up where we left off this morning, before we were interrupted.”_

Of course. Liam bit back a sigh of resignation. It’d be too much to hope Zayn had forgotten the direction their conversation had been headed, and he still didn’t have an answer. Not one that wouldn’t leave him torn open and exposed. “Yeah. That’s… it’s fine. I don’t have any plans other than some reading.”

_“Feel free to treat the grounds like home. Travesty needs to be exercised, and I’m sure Nadia would be more than willing to let you take over, if you’re interested.”_

“I- uh... Definitely. I’d love to.”

_“And I hate to ask, but… It’s just, the trip is short notice, and there’s no room at the kennel… I don’t like to take Quinn to the city. He doesn’t like being cooped up. I was wondering if you’d-”_

Liam cut Zayn off before he could finish. “What? Yeah, of course! Can he stay in my room? Or would I just need to go to the cottage and let him out? Feed him?”

_“Oh, no! He’s too much of a brat to stay in the inn! He’s likely to gnaw on an antique or something equally reprehensible. If you have a minute - I’m trying to gather up what I have to take to the city. Could you run down here? I can give you a key to the cottage before I leave.”_

Zayn was asking him for a favor. Trusted Liam enough to let him into his space. It might have been borne out of need, but still…

_“Liam?”_

Shit! Fuck! Damn his habit of losing focus in the middle of a conversation!

 _“Or, if you’re busy, I can just leave it under the mat for you. He’ll probably be fine, but…”_ Zayn trailed off again, then cleared his throat and finished in a rush. _“He’s a bit co-dependent, is the thing. He’s never been left by himself for more than a couple of hours. Even when the vineyard is active, he roams around the property with me all day.”_

“No, yeah. It’s fine. Give me about ten minutes?”

_“Well, I was thinking- You could, like, uhm, stay at the cottage? There’s two spare rooms downstairs; you can take your pick. You can still take your meals at the inn, or the fridge is stocked. I’ve got WiFi, cable. Pretty much all the same amenities as the inn but with a bit more privacy, and Quinn wouldn’t be alone. I mean if you want. If it’s not an inconvenience.”_

Liam could hear the nervous stress in Zayn’s voice, the wavering uncertainty in his request. He hated that this was what they’d come to, and rushed to alleviate it.

“Oh. Yeah. If it makes things easier. Sounds good. Be right there.”

He hung up without saying goodbye, his mind already five steps ahead of his body. He tugged on his trainers and shoved his phone in his pocket, then dashed out of his room and down the steps, too impatient to wait on the lift.

A shout to “Come in!” answered Liam’s knock on the cottage door and he entered, only to be met by a greyish-blue whirling dervish twining around his legs and barking as if to welcome him back.

“Quinn! Sit!” Zayn yelled. The pup paused, staring toward the stairs, then obeyed, his ass dropping heavily on the polished wood floor. He looked adoringly up at Liam and bumped his head into Liam’s calf for attention.

“Hey, boy!” Liam squatted down and petted the pup, laughing when he scooched over to lean into Liam. “We gonna hang out? Eat crisps and watch bad rom coms on the telly? How’s that sound?”

“Sounds a lot fucking better than spending all day in a law office, dealing with bullshit.” Liam looked up to watch Zayn walk down the stairs, a small overnight bag and a leather jacket in his hand. Ten years on and the man still made Liam’s heart skip a beat. He wore plain black jeans paired with a casual red and black plaid button down and non-descript black hoodie, a look he made appear runway-worthy without any effort. “I really appreciate you watching him for me, Liam.”

“He’ll be fine.” Liam rubbed Quinn’s head one last time, then stood back up. “So you never said - why do you have to go to New York?” Liam stood up.

“It’s a garbage lawsuit concerning royalties. My attorney assures me it’s perfunctory, but it’s still a giant pain in the ass. Unfortunately, I’m under a gag order, and not supposed to talk about it - not that I give a shit about any of that. It’ll take more time than I have right now to get into the minutiae.” Zayn frowned. “Maybe when I get back.”

“It’s cool. We dealt with a lot of shit in order to put out this album. I get it.”

Without Liam’s undivided attention, Quinn walked away and flopped down on a dog bed situated in front of the fire. “I know where the treats are. How much does he eat and how often?”

Zayn dropped his things by the door. “I keep his kibble in a cupboard in the laundry room. Here,” he motioned for Liam to follow, “I’ll show you.” Liam complied and Zayn continued with the instructions for Quinn’s care. “He eats twice a day. I put down a couple scoops of dry kibble every morning before I go out to ride Cool and it's gone by the time I get back from the stable.”

“Wait, what about Cool?”

“Nadia will exercise him. He’s a bit skittish with new people, so I don’t allow anyone else to ride him. I meant what I said about Travesty, though. Feel free. He loves a good run, and he doesn’t typically care who’s riding him.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Zayn stepped into the laundry room and pulled open a tall cabinet next to the washing machine. “The kibble is in here. I have to keep it put away, otherwise the greedy little bastard will eat right through the bag to get to it.” Zayn pulled the large bag out and showed Liam the scoop inside. “He gets fed the second time in the evening. No hard and fast time, just somewhere around dinner time. He gets two scoops of kibble again, and a third of one of these cans, with a bit of hot water.” Zayn shoved the bag back in place and waved to the shelf above where cans of dog food were organized in neat rows. “There’s already a can in the fridge; I just opened it last night. I’ll be back before you need to open another.”

“If it takes longer, it’s fine. We’ve got this.” Liam looked down at Quinn, who had followed them. “Right, boy?” Quinn barked in acknowledgement, then waddled toward the kitchen.

“He’s looking for a treat.” Zayn said fondly. “I give him a few every day, because he’s a spoilt baby and I’m his obedient servant.” Zayn closed the cupboard, then motioned for Liam to precede him back to the kitchen. “Like I said, there’s plenty of food here, or you can eat at the inn - whatever works for you. Just make yourself at home. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“That’s what friends do, right? Help out in a pinch.” Liam replied not realizing the implications of what he’d said until it was too late to recant the words.

Zayn hummed in response, whether in acknowledgement or derision, Liam couldn’t tell, but hoped it was the former. Things still seemed tenuous, at best, between them, and Liam felt certain he was being tested without having been given the revision guide beforehand.

“I need to go pick up some clothes and stuff from the inn, but I’ll be discreet. Promise. Maybe muss the bed so it looks like I slept there.”

“Hmmm? What? Why?” Zayn looked puzzled, then realisation slid over his face. “Oh. Oh! No, don’t worry about it. Lauren knows I’m headed out of town and that you’ll be looking after Quinn. It’s fine.”

“People might talk.”

“They might. Let them. It’s why NDAs exist. They’ll only talk amongst themselves.” Zayn shrugged. “I’ve lived here for years without incident. I trust every person who works at Rising Phoenix, otherwise they wouldn’t be here. I think they value my privacy even more than I do. It’s a comforting thought, to be honest. Oh, and here, before I forget -”

Zayn reached into the pocket of his jeans. The key in his hand glinted in the late afternoon sun and when Liam accepted it, he was certain he felt the weight of the trust it signified. He’d be damned before he’d do anything to betray it.

“That reminds me-” Liam dug into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it and opened the contacts to set up a new one. “Put your number in and I’ll send a text so you have mine.” Liam felt the rush of heat to his cheeks. He prayed his nervousness wasn’t obvious. “So you can check on Quinn.”

“And so we can talk,” Zayn said, his attention focused on the phone’s keypad as he entered his information, but Liam felt the soft openness in his tone, felt it like an arrow to the heart.

“Right. Talk.” Liam accepted the phone back and opened his contacts again, scrolling until he came to the new entry. A simple ‘Z’ with a wine glass. Appropriate, Liam thought, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He sent a quick text of his name, adding four chevrons after it. Zayn’s phone buzzed with the new message alert, and he pressed his hand against the pocket of his jacket, his eyes never leaving Liam’s face.

The room fell quiet, the only sound a soft snore from the pup sprawled between their feet. Liam broke eye contact first, dropping his gaze and rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, then waved vaguely toward the door. “So. I’ll just…”

“Yeah, I need to hit the road. It’s gonna be pushing midnight before I get in.”

Zayn stepped closer and Liam’s heart rate sped up, the blood coursing through his veins, the force of it so loud it felt like a freight train rushing through his head. Zayn hesitated half a second, then pulled Liam into a quick hug. Liam breathed in, the remembered scent of the past still present, even under the unfamiliar cologne Zayn now wore, and held on a beat longer than his heart had hoped for.

“Be safe,” he whispered and stepped back.

Zayn hesitated just long enough to send the butterflies in Liam’s stomach into a frenzy, then nodded and turned away. He picked up his things, plucked his keys from a bowl on a side table, and opened the door. Quinn looked up at the sound and stood up quickly to follow. Liam grabbed his collar.

“Oh no you don’t, pal. You’re staying with me.”

“Thanks again, Li. I’ll call when I get in.”

“Please.”

The door closed softly behind him, followed by the sound of a car engine turning over. The crunch of tires on gravel slowly faded away, leaving Liam in silence, alone in the house of a man he wasn’t sure he knew anymore, if he’d ever truly known him at all.

Once Quinn settled back on his bed, Liam returned to the inn. He waved to Lauren when she greeted him from her post behind the desk and opted again for the stairs instead of the lift. He rolled up a change of clothes with the lounge pants he slept in, then grabbed his toiletry bag from the bathroom. He shoved it all into his backpack, adding his phone charger, laptop, and the le Carre’ book. He’d come over and grab more clothes the next day. Taking his entire duffle would be easier, but the connotation of moving his things to Zayn’s was more than he was willing to deal with at the moment. He took a minute to straighten up what he was leaving behind, then hazarded a glance at his watch. “Fuck,” he muttered. Nearly six o’clock. He’d taken longer than he’d planned to. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and opened the door, pausing to make a mental inventory to check if he’d forgotten anything. He scanned the room one last time, his eyes drawn to the pristine bed, and fought the urge to muss the linens for the benefit of housekeeping. _Don’t be an idiot! Nothing’s going on,_ he chided himself. _You’re just helping out an old friend in a tight spot._ While he knew it to be the truth, it felt deeper, more significant, than it looked on the surface.

Liam opened the door of the cottage and Quinn sprang to action. He rushed across the room, barking loudly, as if welcoming Liam back, his tail wagging hard enough to pull him off balance.

“Missed me already? It’s barely been an hour, you silly thing.” Liam let his bag slide to the floor and crouched down to ruffle the pup’s ears.

He loved dogs, had a couple of his own back home, but something about Quinn was beyond endearing. He ignored the niggling voice that intimated it wasn’t the dog, but it’s owner, that fascinated him. No need to emphasize the obvious. He’d been enthralled by Zayn the first time he’d met him. The feelings had only deepened and grown in those first two years. And then Vegas, where everything had changed… A heavy sigh escaped him to settle over the room like a pall. The memories hadn’t faded in the years since Zayn had left; they only became more poignant when they surfaced to haunt him when he least expected it.

Shoving the thoughts away before he wallowed in them again, he shooed Quinn away, picked up his bag again, and opened the door closest to him. The guest room was as tastefully appointed as his room at the inn, though the decor choices leaned toward modern instead of antique. He stepped inside to drop off his stuff, a semblance of comfort and well-being settling over him. Despite the exquisite decor, the room gave the appearance of being lived in and loved, as opposed to the impersonal luxury of his suite. Another afghan draped the foot of the bed, in all likelihood also crafted by his mum. He let his hand drift over the soft yarn and a wistful yearning filled him, replacing the betrayal he’d initially felt when he learned of his mum’s secret friendship with Zayn. Once upon a time, he and Zayn’s mum Trish had shared the same bond Zayn had apparently rebuilt with Liam’s mum, and if he was honest with himself, he’d missed it more than he cared to think about at the moment. Until he sorted the situation with Zayn, he didn’t dare waste time dreaming about regaining the family he’d lost. He dropped his bag in the chair by the window and toed off his shoes to leave them near the door. He walked back out of the room and pulled the door firmly shut behind him, but not before the ghosts of the past that haunted his life like a talisman slipped out to follow him. They lingered in the air - elusive, ethereal, and out of reach- just like the man whose presence had dominated so much of it.

The sun sat low on the horizon, the thinnest shard of light creating a golden glow through the wall of windows in the main room. His stomach rumbled, a reminder that he’d skipped lunch, and it had been over eight hours since he and Zayn had eaten breakfast. Quinn laid on his bed, his eyes following Liam as he walked toward the kitchen. His tail thumped heavily on the floor, accompanied by a low whine.

“Hungry, boy?”

The tail thumped harder; the whine increased.

“Alright, then. Let’s get you sorted.”

Liam turned toward the laundry room and Quinn scrambled to his feet with a joyful bark, trotting along next to him, and twining in and around his feet. Liam laughed and shooed him away. “Careful, now! The last thing I want is to step on a paw there, pal. Come on now. Sit!”

Whether he recognized the command or the tone, it didn’t matter. Quinn dropped to his haunches. He continued to watch Liam’s every move, the anticipation evident in the way his body quivered and his tail beat out a steady rhythm on the floor. Liam mixed up the animal’s food per Zayn’s instructions, and set the bowl back on the floor where he’d found it. The pup dashed for his dish, lost his footing, and his legs slid out from under him, sending him careening into the dish on his stomach. Liam chuckled, bursting into a full-bodied laugh when Quinn gave him a reproachful look.

“You’re ridiculous. No wonder Zayn loves you.”

Liam leaned on the island to watch him, his own dinner forgotten until his stomach rumbled again. After a quick check of the time, he contemplated his options. Despite the outstanding meals he’d eaten at Sanctuary for the past three days, the appeal waned when compared to being able to cook for himself. In Zayn’s kitchen. And that addendum made the decision even easier. He opened the refrigerator and freezer to weigh his options. Zayn hadn’t been lying when he said it was fully stocked. A wide variety of fruits and vegetables filled the fridge, with an abundance of fish and chicken to accompany them. And then he spied the freezer bags filled with familiar triangular shaped pastries that looked suspiciously like - “Samosas! Fuck, yeah!” The bags were labeled in Trisha’s neat handwriting. Meat, chicken, potato - everything he remembered from eating dinner with the Malik family in the past. He grabbed a bag of beef and potato samosas and set it on the counter, then dug out fresh spinach and strawberries. Opening the cupboard next to the stove revealed a bag of walnuts, as well as the cooking oil. He gathered it all up and piled it next to the stove, then searched for a frying pan. Within thirty minutes he had the samosas fried and cooling on a paper towel-covered plate, as well as a spinach salad with sliced strawberries and walnuts in a raspberry vinaigrette dressing to accompany it. Maybe not the most traditional Pakistani meal, but somehow he knew Trisha would approve. He settled in a chair at the island and pulled out his phone to cue up some music to break the silence. Quinn finished his own dinner and came to lay down at Liam’s feet, his head resting on his paws as he waited to see if his new friend might drop a scrap or two.

“You really are a proper little beggar, aren’t you?” Liam smiled and dropped a corner of a pastry in front of Quinn’s nose. “Now bugger off. I haven’t had these in years; the rest are mine.”

He tucked in, polishing off the plate of food in no time. Comfortably full, he sat back in the chair and slowly sipped a glass of water. The music faded, interrupted by a text notification, then resumed. Liam reached for his phone, expecting it to be one of the lads or his PA. His eyes widened when he saw Zayn’s contact. He fumbled and mistyped the access code in his urgency to open his phone. “Fuck!” He tried again, and it opened to the message.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
**Z:** Stopped for gas. Should be in NY by 11:30. Won’t call if it’s too late. BTW just take Quinn out behind the cottage to take care of business. You don’t need the lead. It’s fenced. 

Liam rushed to reply.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
No. Call when you get in. I’ll worry otherwise. 

Well, that was probably too much, Liam thought. Well... fuck it. In for a penny, in for a pound. He’d made the trip in hopes of rebuilding a friendship, right? And friends worried. It was fine. Completely fine.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
Fed Quinn. Ate your Mum’s samosas. Still as good as I remembered. 

A series of dots blinked across the chat screen, then Zayn’s reply popped up.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
**Z:** Might be her recipe, but I made those. She just bagged them up and put them in the freezer. I’ll be sure to tell her you prefer my cooking.   
Don’t you fucking dare! I won’t be able to talk her into making halwa for me if you do that!   
  
**Z:** I can make halwa. I have all her recipes.  
  
Oh  
  
Well then that works.   
  
But still. I don’t want to offend her.   
  
She’s the reason I love all these dishes in the first place. 

Liam pressed a knuckle against his mouth and nervously bit on the inside of his lip.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
**Z:** I doubt there’s much you could do that would offend my mother. 

And, oh. That certainly wasn’t something he expected to hear.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
Go.   
  
Pay attention to the road.   
  
Be safe.   
  
We’ll talk later.   
  
**Z:** K   
  
**Z:** Later  
  
**Z:** Oh, and Liam?   
  
**Z:** There’s carrot halwa in the freezer, too. Enjoy. 

“Well, fuck!” Liam laughed. Quinn stood and stretched, eyeing the sliding door that opened out to the yard behind the cottage, then looked back at Liam expectantly.

“Need to go out?” The dog barked. “Alright then. Give me a minute to put these in the sink.”

Liam collected the dishes and set them in the sink and quickly put away the oil and vegetables. The dishes could wait. He gathered up his phone and glass, then opened the door that led out onto the deck that stretched the length of the back of the house. Quinn pushed past Liam and tore off at a run to circle the yard, stopping to bark at a squirrel that chattered at him safely from a low-hanging tree branch. Taking a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs, Liam put his feet up on an ottoman and set his glass on the table next to him. He opened his phone up to read back over the chat with Zayn. A twisting warmth washed over his heart, leaving him giddy and wishing he had someone to talk to about it. He checked the time, and chanced shooting off a quick text.

(Four Leaf Clover )N(Four Leaf Clover )  
  
You awake?   
**N:** I’m in LA, I hope to fuck I’m awake. If I wasn’t, I’d better be dead.  
HAHAHA   
**N:** You still in the wilds of Pennsylvania?   
Yep   
**N:** And how's that working out for you?   
The first time I saw him was…. tense  
**N:** You don’t say? I mean, who wouldn’t love their ex randomly popping up for ten days.  
Kiss my arse, Ni.   
**N:** Ah, You're propositioning me? Guess you haven’t shagged him yet, then.  
Not the point of the trip.  
**N:** As if you’d say no.   
Again, not the point.   
**N:** Whatever Payno.   
**N:** So what’s the Malik farm look like?   
A proper vineyard, with a tasting room and shite.   
And a stable.   
It’s beautiful.  
Everything I never expected to see. 

Quinn returned from terrorizing the wildlife and plopped at Liam’s feet, his tongue lolling from his mouth while he caught his breath. Liam snapped a picture of him and shot it off to Niall.

(Four Leaf Clover )N(Four Leaf Clover )  
  
**N:** You bought another fucking dog? Have you lost your mind? We’re going on tour in a few months!   
He’s not mine, you dick. He’s Zayn’s.   
**N:** Oh.  
**N:** OH!  
**N:** Uhm - explain  
Zayn had business in NY. I’m dog sitting.   
**N:** At the inn???  
No. At Zayn’s. 

The phone rang, an Irish flag waving proudly on the screen. Of course he’d call. Niall hated texting. He couldn’t type fast enough to keep up with his brain.

_“What do you mean, you’re dog sitting at Zayn’s?”_

“Hello to you, too, Niall. How’s LA?”

 _“Don’t even - You’re at Zayn’s?”_ Liam stifled a laugh at the incredulity in Niall’s voice. _“And if you’re dogsitting, I’m assuming he’s not there. He gave you access to his house while he was gone?”_

“Actually, I’m staying at his house.” Liam leaned over and scratched Quinn’s head.

_“Are you having me on right now?”_

“Nope.” Liam drew the syllable out, the p popping at the end.

 _“I’m not gonna beg you for details. Just fucking fess up or I’ll TP your dressing room on tour.”_ Niall paused then chuckled. _“Nah. You know what, I’ll just call Tommo. He can deal with your reckless arse.”_

“Hold the fuck up! Sheesh. You didn’t even give me a chance to say anything. And do NOT call Louis, or so help me God I’ll unstring your guitars.” Liam sighed. “He’ll just lose his shit and I’m feeling too good to have to listen to his ranting.”

_“He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know that right? He just worries. We’ve all been through some shit, and he just wants us to be okay.”_

“Yeah, I know. Our mother hen.”

They shared a laugh at the apt analogy and Niall pressed on. _“So if you don’t want to talk to Louis, talk to me. How's it going, really?”_

Liam took a deep breath and plunged in, recalling everything he could and retelling it all to his friend. To his credit, Niall didn’t interrupt, allowing Liam to mull things over while he recalled the events of the past four days. He told Niall about the afghans and his mom’s ongoing friendship with not only Zayn’s mum, but Zayn himself. Liam heard the intake of Niall’s breath, and the low whistle at that part of the story and Liam nodded in commiseration. Same. He still struggled to wrap his head around his mum’s eight year secret, but had decided it was what it was. It had happened; he knew now; the rest was history that couldn’t be changed. If nothing else, he had to give her props for maintaining Zayn’s privacy, even whilst she had to watch Liam struggle to make peace with everything.

Liam finished up his retelling of events and he heard Niall’s breath leave in a huffing rush.

_“And now you’re sleeping at his house and playing with his dog.”_

“Yep.”

_“But have ya talked about things? I mean, do you know why he left?”_

“Not yet. He’s supposed to call when he gets to New York.”

 _“Is that a conversation you want to have when you can’t see him, though?”_ Niall asked, sounding genuinely concerned. _“I mean, you can tell a lot about what someone's saying if you can actually watch them say it, you know what I mean?”_

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying, but really, do I have another choice? Wouldn’t it be better to do it like this anyway, when we’re both essentially in neutral territory?”

_“You’re in his fecking house, Payno! That’s the furthest damn thing from neutral.”_

“Maybe. But it’s not like he’s right here and he can’t really throw me out, can he? Otherwise, there’s no one to take care of Quinn.”

_“True. Just… fuck… I don't know. Be careful, Li. He’s cost you enough emotional energy, mate.”_

“Because I didn’t have any answers.”

 _“You still don’t.”_ Niall reminded him.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I’m a helluva lot closer to getting them than I would have been if I stayed home.”

_“Fair enough. I just hope they’re what you’re looking for.”_

“Me too, Ni. Me too.”

To his credit, Niall let Liam’s reply go and changed the topic to the upcoming press conference and album release. They were all excited about their new album, and the producers who had worked with them had been effusive in their praise. It was good, damn good, and highlighted the best of all they were each bringing back to the table after their solo work. Proud would be an understatement for how they all felt about it and they couldn’t wait for the fans to finally hear what they’d created. The conversation drifted from there to the tour dates. Liam heard voices in the background and wrapped up the call. Niall let him go, but only after extracting a promise that Liam would call him in a couple days to update him on what was going on. After a quick goodbye, they hung up. Liam set the phone on the table, then scrubbed his hands over his face and released a heavy sigh. He slid down on the deck next to Quinn and let the dog climb into his lap, where he promptly went back to sleep.

“Not much of a conversationalist, huh?” Liam slowly stroked the animal’s back, taking comfort in the latent heat of his presence. He leaned down, wrapped his arms tighter around Quinn and snuggled into his neck. “It's cool. I don’t feel much like talking, anyway.”

Liam sat on the deck until the night air became frigid and his shivering became unbearable. With a groan, he shifted the sleeping dog off his lap and pushed to his feet. The last thing he needed was to catch a cold. Not now. Not when they were about to drop into a massive round of promo.

After gathering up his phone and empty glass, he brought a reluctant Quinn back in the house and tackled the dishes from dinner. Once the kitchen was squared away, he turned off the overhead light, leaving only a small table lamp to illuminate the great room. Somehow, instead of making the room feel insular, it lent a welcoming, cosy ambiance to the expansive area. Liam retrieved his laptop from his room and stretched out on one of the sofas, settling in to await Zayn’s phone call. He rested the laptop on his stomach, his phone next to his hip, then leaned his head back into the throw pillow and closed his eyes. He wanted to look over the blacklist they’d prepared for the media in advance of the press conference, but he couldn’t be arsed to open the documents. His eyes burned and the early stages of a headache plucked at the back of his head. It was barely gone half nine and he was physically and emotionally exhausted. The day had started abruptly before the sun had even breached the horizon and gone full tilt ever since.

Just a few minutes, then he’d…

The next thing he knew, his phone vibrated against his hip, then began to ring. He snatched it up, eyes still closed, and swiped his thumb to answer it.

“Hello?”

_“Hey Li. Did I wake you? I should have just texted. It’s late.”_

“No. It’s cool. I was laying on the sofa and must have dozed off. I wasn’t in bed or anything.”

Liam slowly blinked his eyes open. His legs felt heavy, weighted down, and it wasn’t until he tried to move them that he realised Quinn had settled across them at some point. He stilled and slid his laptop to the floor. Rather than disturb the sleeping animal, he stayed where he was. “You’re in already? How was your trip?”

_“Already? It’s gone half eleven, Liam. How long were you dozing?”_

“Apparently a lot longer than I thought.” Liam stifled a yawn. “Your trip?”

 _“The drive was fine. Long. Boring. Too quiet._ ” Liam could hear Zayn moving around, the sound of a door closing. _“You can only sing along so much with the radio, you know?”_

Liam hummed, unsure what to say. Thankfully, Zayn saved him the trouble and changed the subject.

_“How’s my boy doing?”_

“How’s your...uhm… I’m… uh…” Liam stuttered, still half asleep. Liam shook his head, certain he’d misheard. _His boy? Since when?_ Surely Zayn didn’t mean what Liam thought he meant.

_“Li? You there? Did you fall back asleep?”_

“No, I’m here. Sorry. Zoned out for a minute.”

_“How’s Quinn doing?”_

Of course. He’d been referring to Quinn. A flash of disappointment pierced Liam. _Don’t be stupid. He called because you insisted, didn’t he? It was a start._ “He’s doing great. He ate dinner, terrorized a squirrel. Slept a lot.” _Provided emotional therapy,_ Liam added to himself. “Just regular dog things.” Liam laughed. “He must have worn himself out. He’s sound asleep.”

_“Be forewarned, he won’t stay in his bed. He likes to sleep on the human beds.”_

“Is he not allowed on the furniture?” Liam stifled a quick pang of guilt.

 _“Theoretically or realistically?”_ Zayn laughed. _“It doesn’t matter. I gave up trying to keep him off a long time ago. It’s why I keep the doors to the guest bedrooms closed. Just in case.”_

“So, what I’m hearing is unless I want to wake up with a dog breathing in my face, close my door?”

Zayn laughed again. _“Pretty much. He’s good about staying at the foot of the bed, though. Almost like he knows he’s pushing his luck._ ”

Liam peeked at the time on his phone. “It’s nearly midnight. Aren’t you tired? What time do you have to be at the attorney’s office?”

_“Not until ten. I’m fine.”_

Quinn flopped over onto his back. A soft snore escaped him and Liam bit back a laugh as he sat up, his feet finally free of the dog’s weight.

“Your dog snores.”

_“I’ve been told his owner does, too.”_

“You do.” Liam replied without thinking, immediately trying to walk it back. “I mean. You used to.”

_“Yeah.”_

The call went quiet, so much so Liam checked to make sure it was still connected.

 _“You know, when you spend that much time alone in a car, it gives you plenty of time to think.”_ Zayn said. Liam heard the waver in his words, knew the next question before it was asked. _“Why did you come to Rising Phoenix, Liam?”_ Zayn asked, his voice soft. Small. Uncertain.

Liam cursed his luck. It’d been too much to hope Zayn would let it ride. He held his breath as he tried to find an answer.

_“Li?”_

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?”

 _“I might have believed the Liam I knew ten years ago - the one who was a consummate Gryffindor, who rushed in and worried about the consequences later.”_ Zayn cleared his throat, his voice stronger, more sure when he spoke again. _“This Liam? I don’t know him well enough to say for sure.”_

“I’m still me.”

 _“No, you’re not. None of us are. The shit we went through, and everything since - it changes people.”_ Liam felt a sense of déjà vu. His therapist had essentially said the same thing to him on more than one occasion, most recently when Liam told her about his plans to fly to Pennsylvania to try to talk to Zayn. _“Changes their perspective, their priorities. I’m not saying it's necessarily a bad thing, it’s just reality.”_

“Maybe.” Liam grudgingly conceded. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly before plunging into an explanation for him being there, that, even to his own ears, sounded ridiculous when said aloud. “I… It’s like… with everything going on, the album and shit, it felt weird, kind of incomplete without you, even though you’d left before we did _Made in the AM_. I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure the rumours I’d heard about the vineyard were true, but I had to follow through, simply on the off chance they were. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I didn’t at least try to find you.”

_“Why?”_

“Do you even have to ask that question?” Liam was incredulous.

 _“Yeah, I think I do. It’s been ten years, Liam.”_ Zayn answered, clearly exasperated. _“Actually,_ _maybe the first question should be why now? Why was it so important now and not any other time?”_

“It’s not like I didn’t want to before. I tried calling dozens of times a day, every day, after you left. At first they all went to voicemail, and then suddenly your number was inactive. Same with your mum’s.” For the second time that day, Liam fought to control the panic clawing at his chest. He wasn’t able to hide the tremor of emotion in his voice, though. Apparently Quinn heard it, too. He crawled up the sofa and pressed against Liam, resting his head in Liam’s lap. Liam absently petted his head and took a measured breath to calm down. “I couldn’t find out anything from anyone, other than the press releases. McGee and Griffins wouldn’t tell us shit, and Simon wouldn’t take our calls. As far as they were concerned, it was business as usual.”

_“I’m sure.” The bitterness in Zayn’s tone was evident, even if he sounded less agitated. “They never gave a shit about us, just how much money we could make for them.”_

“Yeah, but we knew that long before you left.”

_“I hated it, hated that we were nothing more than marionettes dancing on their strings, pulled whatever way they chose. We had no autonomy.”_

“We do now.”

_“But at what cost, Liam? I may have left, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t know what was going on. I've seen the interviews, the articles. The stuff all of you have said about the toll fame took on us mentally and physically.”_

This. Shit! This was the topic Liam had been most afraid of delving into. He’d been so candid in the interviews during his first album’s release –– much to his own detriment. The resultant media spin had made him seem unstable and erratic. It had been obvious that he was still struggling at the time, though he’d been reluctant to admit it to himself. The rare moments he looked back on it all still left him cringing at how off kilter he’d been. He knew it affected his promotion and sales, and he’d hated that, but it also drove him back into therapy, where he finally got real and dealt with the disaster his life had become.

Zayn’s voice fell, his next words almost a whisper, the bitterness gone, his sadness evident. _“And the things you all said about me? About not knowing I was miserable? We were supposed to be friends. And none of you saw it? How?”_

“Oh come on, Zayn. You had shut down, shut us all out long before tour started. Hell, I lived with you and I barely knew you anymore.”

_“I’d been miserable for months. Probably years. The music, the touring, the constant secrets and lies. I couldn’t take it anymore and everything I did to cope only made it worse.”_

“So… what? You just woke up and decided to leave? Without a word to anyone?” Liam pressed on, frustrated because he knew they were dancing around the real reasons. He didn’t know what to say to draw out the truth, to get to the crux of Zayn’s decision, and the harder Zayn resisted, the more Liam feared _he_ had been at the root of it. Despite his misgivings and desperate for the truth, he pushed on. “We could have sorted something out. It didn’t have to be that way. You never gave us a chance.”

_“You’d have talked me out of leaving. I’d have stayed to keep you lot happy, and ended up hating all of you for it.”_

“We were already planning a break after tour. The end was in sight. You knew that!” Frustrated, Liam fought to keep from shouting into the phone.

 _“What end? You and Louis had already begun writing for the next album and were planning to hit the studio again as soon as we went on break in April.”_ Zayn's voice cracked. _“I tried, Liam. Remember Four promo? I was exhausted. Just getting out of bed every day was a challenge. When I missed flying to Florida, you should have known then how bad I was struggling.”_

Liam heard the slide of a door, then a pause, followed by a sharp click. He recognized the sound so well, accompanied by the familiar stuttering draw of a breath and smooth exhale. Zayn was smoking. Liam had quit years ago, but he’d have killed for a cigarette right then, if only to still the shaking in his hands. _“Look, I get it. I don’t blame any of you. We were the biggest thing in the world. You were all riding the high, while I kept waiting for the bubble to burst and the world to implode. It would have been another album, another tour.”_ Liam opened his mouth to interrupt, snapping it shut with Zayn’s final words. _“I couldn’t do it anymore. It would have killed me.”_

“Zayn, I-”

 _“It’s late, Liam. Leave it.”_ Liam heard the door slide again. _“I need to get some sleep. I’ll call tomorrow. I might have a better idea then of what time I’ll be back.”_

“But-”

_“Tomorrow, Liam. Sleep well.”_

Before he could reply, the phone went silent in Liam’s hand. He pulled it away from his ear to blink unbelieving at the blank screen.

What the fuck had just happened? Surely Zayn hadn’t just… Unbidden, the memories of other rumors that had been whispered about Zayn consumed his thoughts. Rumors he’d heard and discounted at the time, not wanting to believe someone he’d loved, _still_ loved, could have been dragged that far into a pit of despair.

 _And why the fuck not?_ He thought to himself. Look at what a fucking mess his own life had been. The drinking, body image issues, his self-worth. Being a part of the biggest boyband in the world had been a blessing - and a curse. But even through the worst of it, he’d still had the others - his boys, his brothers-in-arms - to help him rediscover who he was. Who had been there for Zayn? Sure, he had had his family, but even before One Direction he’d had few close friends, content to immerse himself in his art and music. And after? Once they’d really started to hit it big, Zayn had found it harder and harder to trust people, never certain if they had ulterior motives.

But still. How had he missed Zayn’s problems? Was Zayn right? Had he been so consumed with their success that he’d overlooked the demons Zayn was dealing with? He absently reached for Quinn, hoping his presence would ground him, but the dog had vacated the sofa and returned to his bed on the floor. Liam stared unseeing into the darkened room, suddenly cold and bereft.

When the band first went on hiatus, the four of them had scattered around the globe eager to finally live their own lives. Or so they thought. For five years they'd practically lived in each others’ pockets, so much a part of each other's lives that they became a family, albeit one that was dysfunctional as fuck. None of them had comprehended how deeply entwined their lives had become, only glad of the chance to experience life on their own. At first it had been a novelty - no early morning wake up calls for interviews or rehearsals, no one barging into his room unannounced, being able to enjoy a meal without someone helping themselves to something on his plate. By the end of the first six months, Liam felt adrift and lost. He found himself missing everything he’d hated about the constant recording and touring. It had become his life, and the new normal felt unnatural. The silence nearly drove him round the bend.

Over time, and with the help of counseling, he'd learned to not only cope with being alone, but to relish the solitude. It'd been nice, having the time to simply exist, without the demands of their career dragging them every which way at once. Nevertheless, the decision for the band to come back together had been met with enthusiasm. He and Louis had immediately fallen back into their old writing patterns, spending days on end in sessions together and with other songwriters, culling from the many new collaborators they’d used on their solo work. Unlike before, Niall and Harry had joined them, as well. The experience had been chaotic and cathartic, a welcome reminder that the past hadn’t all been absolute shit.

He'd believed reestablishing his friendship with Zayn was the final piece needed to rediscover everything he'd once thought lost. Now, though? He wasn’t as sure. What if it had been a mistake? Was attempting to recapture what they’d once had worth ruining the peace they’d each created in their lives? So many questions, so few answers. For the first time in a long time, Liam felt not only alone, but lonely, and knew he had no one to blame but himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	4. Between the Wars We Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _Between the Wars_ by Allman Brown

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

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Liam woke the next morning, his eyes gritty, his head pounding. He could count on one hand the number of hours he’d slept, and still have fingers left over. Even the comforting warmth of Quinn’s body curled up next to him hadn’t been enough to chase away the disjointed dreams and pseudo nightmares that had plagued him. Still, despite his exhaustion, he dragged himself from bed and after a quick trip to the loo, donned his jeans, a grey plaid button down, and trainers. He stumbled out to the kitchen and prepped the coffee pot. While it brewed, he dumped food in Quinn’s dish, then returned to the bathroom hoping to find some tablets for his aching head. He walked back out to the bedroom to find Quinn sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed, gone to the world. Liam shook his head and chuckled quietly. At least one of them could get some sleep. 

After a quick cup of coffee, Liam quietly left the house and made his way through the dewy early morning to the stables. He found Nadia inside rubbing down Cool. She looked up when he entered, offering a warm smile when she realised who it was. 

“Good morning! He’s been waiting for you.” She nodded toward Travesty’s stall, where the large horse peered over the rails of the door. Travesty shook out his mane and nodded, as if acknowledging Nadia’s words. “Sugar cubes are in the tack room on the shelf next to the bridles. His gear is hanging on the right, below the hole from Cool’s.” She inclined her head toward the tack hanging over the fence next to her. 

“Want me to put those up?” 

“If you don’t mind. I’d appreciate it. I’ll take this boy out and let him have a munch out in the pasture.” 

Liam scooped up the gear and entered the tack room. He saw the space for Cool’s saddle and stowed it, returning the bit and bridle to the appropriate places on the shelves. Spying the box of sugar cubes, he tucked a small handful into the pocket of his shirt. He removed Travesty’s gear and hoisted it up, snagging the bridle with his free hand. He exited the room and walked to Travesty’s stall. The horse nickered when he saw Liam approaching, stretching his neck to present his muzzle for petting. Liam smiled. Everything else might be shit, but this, the quiet times, made the other parts bearable. He scratched down Travesty’s nose.

“Good morning, lad. Hope you slept better than I did,” Liam whispered. He unlatched the gate and Travesty backed up to allow Liam to enter. Liam settled the saddle and bridle over the rails, and wrapped his arms around the horse’s neck. “How about a run? I think we both need one.” 

The horse nuzzled his pocket, obviously smelling the sweet treat Liam had hidden there. Liam smiled and removed two, holding them out on his palm. Travesty’s rough tongue scraped his hand when he nicked the cubes. He finished chewing them up, then bumped his forehead into Liam’s chest. 

“Later, you greedy fuck.” Liam scratched his muzzle again. Yeah, a ride might be what he needed to renew his spirit. He settled the saddle over Travesty’s back and cinched the girth. Exactly what he needed.

He led Travesty to the stableyard and mounted. Once he’d situated himself in the saddle, Liam retraced the route he and Zayn had ridden the day before. Without the distraction of Zayn’s tapered hips undulating in the saddle in front of him, Liam took the time to absorb his surroundings. A cold, but gentle, breeze wafted through the trees, fluttering through the tendrils of Travesty’s mane, and teasing nipping fingers along the open placket of Liam’s shirt. He shivered slightly at the chill and breathed deeply. The earthy aroma of the woods, the unmistakable scent he associated with autumn, surrounded him. Fragmented sunlight filtered through late season leaves, colorful prisms refracting off the dew lingering on the foliage.

All too soon, he found himself on the other side of the tree line. He rode to the crest of the hill again and reined Travesty in, allowing him to nibble the grass while Liam took in the lay of the land. As much as he wanted to let Travesty run, to feel the adrenaline rush that accompanied the horse’s thundering hooves pounding across the fields, he wanted to further explore Zayn’s home more, try to understand its significance in the life Zayn had built for himself since he’d disappeared ten years ago. Turning the opposite way, he held the horse to a walk and picked their way carefully down toward where Zayn had said the creek was located. He rode along the edge of the woods until he found a worn path wide enough for Travesty, and followed it between two stately maple trees. 

The trees were thicker here than the other copse, the paths less travelled. Branches hung heavy with unfallen leaves in vibrant orange and gold, even as those that had been blown free skittered and whirled around them in the breeze. They rustled under Travesty’s hooves, the soft sound punctuated with the occasional snap of a small twig. Birdsong filled the air and a blue jay swooped past Liam’s head with a shrill call, likely protesting their presence in his home. The brilliant scarlet and daub brown of a pair of cardinals sitting on a branch drew his attention and he smiled as the pair watched him and Travesty walk underneath them. The sun peeking through the thick canopy was softer, more filtered, in the dank shadows that surrounded them. 

Liam heard the soft babbling of water drifting through the trees well before they emerged back out into the warming glow of the rising sun. A wide creek rambled in front of him, the water limpid, crystalline, dancing merrily over a dam built across it. The ground along the banks was sodden, likely from the storms earlier in the week, and Liam refrained from riding any closer, worried Travesty would lose his footing. Instead, he pulled the horse to a halt and sat to watch the sun finish its morning salutations to the verdant countryside.

Liam breathed deeply, his eyes closing as he allowed his impressions of Rising Phoenix to wash over him, acknowledging the feelings it evoked. Tranquility. Peace. Belonging. His spirit felt lighter, almost free, and he wished he had a way to hold onto it forever, to take it with him when he left. 

It was only when his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since the night before that he turned the horse and traipsed back the way he came. Hungry or not, there was still one more thing to do before they returned to the inn. Reaching the top of the hill again, he clicked at Travesty and let him have his head. They tore down the other side at a full gallop, the wind rushing around them. Travesty’s hooves bit into the soft earth, clumps of dirt flying out from underneath his feet. He reeled at the edge of the tree line, taking off again across the width of the field. Liam leaned low over Travesty’s neck, and murmured words of encouragement, the animal’s powerful muscles rolling and bunching under the tight clasp of his thighs. His mane fluttered, grey locks of hair floating through the air like elusive whorls of smoke. He ran until his flanks heaved from exertion, steam rising around them from the latent heat of his body. Liam gently pulled the reins to slow to a trot, then a walk. With a shake of his head, Travesty complied, wisps of warm breath curling around his nostrils and dissipating in the crisp morning air.

“Good lad! Liked that, did you?” Liam leaned forward in the saddle to pat the horse’s neck. “Yeah. I love a good run, too. Nothing like it to clean out the cobwebs in your mind.” Travesty pranced in a circle, pulling on the bridle. Liam sat back in the saddle and tightened his grip on the reins to hold the horse steady. “Alright then. There’s a good lad. That’s enough for today. We don’t need you getting worn out or hurt. We’ll run again tomorrow, promise.” One more day was all he could promise. At most he had four days left in Pennsylvania, and after the way Zayn had shut down their conversation the night before, who knew what would happen when he returned from New York. 

Liam turned Travesty toward the road between the fields and held him to a walk. The sun still hung low, just starting it’s daily journey across a nearly cloudless sky. As the last of the morning dew burned away, the breeze had become slow and gentle, and Liam felt the warmth of the radiant heat on his shoulders through his shirt. He pulled Travesty to a stop when he noticed movement in the field next to them. 

A deer picked its way between the rows, moving amongst the trellis framework that supported the vines. An older fawn, it’s coat almost fully turned from dappled to brown, followed behind, pausing occasionally to pull stray grapes from the dormant plants. The pair continued their journey, seemingly unaware of being observed, eventually disappearing into the trees at the other end of the lane. 

Liam clicked at Travesty and gave the reins a small snap, not willing to break the peace by speaking aloud. They continued the ride in silence, birdsong and the clop of hooves on the hardened ground the only sound to accompany them. Solitude surrounded them, enveloped them, a comforting sensation encouraging them to linger, to leave the world and its problems behind just a little longer. 

Far too soon, he found himself back at the stables. He took extra care with Travesty, then turned him into the pasture. The animal whinnied to his stablemates, but continued to hover near the fence where Liam leaned on the crosspiece. He snuffled Liam’s pocket, then bumped his head against Liam’s chest. 

“I’d forgotten all about those,” Liam said with a laugh. He pulled out the remaining sugar cubes and held them out. His stomach rumbled again and he rubbed his palm down Travesty’s muzzle while the animal munched on his treat. “I need to eat. Go play with your friends. I’ll be back soon.” 

Liam hopped down off the fence rail and headed back to the cottage. He returned Nadia’s wave when he passed the stable doors, but didn’t stop to chat, unwilling to break the peace he’d found. He also didn’t bother visiting the dining room at the inn to eat. Zayn had plenty of options at the cottage, and his own company was all he desired at the moment. Maybe he’d go up for dinner later. Maybe. 

The more time he spent in Pennsylvania, the better he understood why Zayn had chosen to make his home there. Even with all that still lingered unresolved between the two of them, Liam experienced an overwhelming wave of calm whenever he spent time wandering around the property, heard an internal voice whispering “It’ll all be okay.” He wished with everything inside him that he could believe it. 

A joyful bark from Quinn greeted Liam when he opened the door of the cottage. He jumped on Liam’s legs, then dashed to the sliding door off the kitchen, barking again as he skidded to a stop just short of slamming into the glass. 

“Idiot!” Liam shook his head. 

He opened the door for Quinn to go out, then returned to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He also grabbed an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter and took a bite. Patting his hip pocket, Liam realized he’d left his phone on the night table whilst he’d been out riding around Rising Phoenix. He retrieved it from the bedroom, surprised to see two missed calls and a text notification. Well, not really surprising, given that anyone who might be calling was on UK time, and it was already mid-afternoon there. After a quick check on Quinn, who had stretched out in a patch of sun on the deck and was currently eyeing a squirrel on the back fence, Liam thumbed open his phone. The calls were both from his PA, and a quick review of the voicemail transcript showed neither were important, just quick updates on some promo scheduled for after he returned to London. He chuckled out loud when he saw the last line of both messages, though - _‘No need to call back. Keep resting.’_

The text message was from Zayn.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
**Z:** Sorry about last night. It was a long day and I said things I shouldn’t have. I’ll call this evening, if it's okay? How’s Quinn? 

Liam mulled over the message, not sure how to answer. Of course Zayn could call. He tapped out a message and paused to re-read it, quickly erasing the entire text. A second message was also written and discarded. Fuck! Why was all of this so damn hard to navigate? Would they ever manage to not be on pins and needles around each other? He tried one more time, and after a quick re-read, he hit send.

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
No need to apologize. We were both tired.  
  
Quinn is currently basking in the sun on the deck. I’m attempting to coerce him inside so I can make some breakfast.   
  
Call whenever you want. 

It was only then he checked the time. Nearly ten, and Zayn had sent the text almost an hour ago. By now he was likely entrenched in his attorney’s office, and wouldn’t see the message for a few hours. Liam shrugged and sat his phone on the island, returning to the sliding door to call Quinn inside. His phone chimed and he whirled around to grab it. 

Z(Wine Glass )  
  
**Z:** Leave the door open. The weather’s mild enough. He’ll come and go as he pleases.  
  
**Z:** 9 good?  
  
Let me check my social calendar. *flips blank page* that’s fine. Whenever.   
  
**Z:** Smartass  
  
I learned from some of the best.  
  
**Z:** Louis would be proud of his padawan. Laters. 

Liam smiled. Tommo wasn’t the only smartass. Zayn had simply been more subtle, and the zingers twice as deadly as a result. He left Quinn contentedly snoozing out back and turned his attention to making something to eat. He rifled through the fridge, gathering up the making of a decent omelet. Pulling up a playlist on his phone to break the silence, he hummed along while he cooked. He knew he should question the normalcy he felt, making himself so completely at home in Zayn’s space, but he found he wasn’t willing to waste the energy pondering something he was reluctant to analyze. Instead, he took his plate and settled on a stool at the island, reflectively staring out over the yard and the rejuvenating landscape visible beyond it. 

The day stretched in front of him with nothing much to do, and Liam felt a little twitchy at the thought of another day spent lazing around. Despite the band’s hiatus, he’d become so used to being busy all the time in those five years after X-Factor, that it had carried over into his personal life and solo work. Not that he had too many options. Given the fact that no one was supposed to know where he was, sightseeing was out of the question. He could call Louis, maybe work on some songwriting, but that would likely lead to a shit ton of questions he wasn’t prepared to deal with. Ditto for Harry. He’d spoken with Niall the day before, and he was busy with his own things. He could always- 

Liam quickly stood, hoping he had what he needed, He set his plate in the sink to be washed later and went to the bedroom to check his backpack. He found what he was looking for tucked into an outside pocket. His sketchpad and pencil case. He deposited them on the table, made a fresh cup of coffee and settled in. He might have to leave Pennsylvania in a few days, but he’d be able to recreate a tangible reminder of his time there to take with him when he had to leave. 

Quinn moved inside around noontime, the sun likely too warm for him now, and settled at Liam’s feet. Distracted, Liam walked over to the cupboard, the sketch book in his hand and a pencil clenched in his teeth as he studied the details of his drawing. He paused to smudge a line with his thumb, then retrieved a couple biscuits for the dog. He dropped one on the floor and put the second one on the table. Flipping the page, Liam started another drawing. He’d never be able to capture everything about Rising Phoenix, certainly not the way it made him feel, but he damn well wanted to save the parts that had made the largest impact. 

A few hours later, Liam sat back, his shoulders and neck stiff from hunching over the table for so long. He twisted his neck, wincing in satisfaction when the muscles popped and some of the tension melted away. He set aside his pencil and flipped through the pages he’d produced. The stables. Travesty. The creek and beaver dam. The deer in the field. Sketched snapshots of his time at the vineyard. The work was little more than rough drafts, but they were enough. Enough for him to revisit in the future, to flesh them out the way they deserved. A way for him to hold onto the memories long after he returned to the madness of his real life. 

Liam reached for his coffee, his nose crinkling in distaste at the cold dregs that remained in his cup. He stood up and twisted again to loosen up his back. The room had become cooler, the sun already dipping back under the horizon. He checked his watch, shocked to find it nearly half five. The second dog biscuit still lay on the table and he looked around for Quinn, who had apparently wandered off at some point. Liam let out a soft whistle and grabbed Quinn’s bowl. He fixed the dog’s dinner and set the bowl back on the floor, then whistled again. 

“Dinner time, Quinn!” 

Nothing. 

Liam looked out into the yard and saw no sign of Quinn. Not seeing him anywhere in the main room either, he also checked the bedroom. No luck. Frustrated, and more than a bit worried, he tried calling him again. 

“Come on, Quinn! Let’s eat!” 

He heard a soft sound from upstairs. Shit! What if he was hurt? Not bothering to debate whether or not he should invade Zayn’s space, he took the steps two at a time. The stairs opened into a massive room, sectioned off by the artful placement of the furniture. The last remnants of the afternoon sun filled the room with waning light through the large windows that dominated every wall. He didn’t notice much more than that in his quest to find the missing dog. He scanned the room, heaving a sigh of relief when he spotted a familiar grey mound lying on a massive four poster bed hung with gauzy cocoa sheers.

Quinn’s tail softly thumped against the mattress, even as he buried his nose into the pillows his head rested on. Liam walked over and perched on the edge of the bed. He reached out to scratch behind Quinn’s ear. Liam didn’t see anything visibly wrong, but hesitated to move the animal. 

“You okay, buddy?”Quinn whimpered and crept across the bed to lean against Liam’s leg. “You miss him, huh?” Liam stroked the dog’s head. Quinn shifted to rest his snout in Liam’s lap, turning mournful eyes up to regard the man sitting next to him. Liam nodded in commiseration. “Yeah, me too, boy. Me too.” 

While he soothed the forlorn animal, Liam looked around the room. A large cherry desk anchored one side of the room, a leather chair pushed into the well underneath. Neat stacks of paper covered the surface, a laptop open in the middle and a cordless phone lying next to it. The desk was positioned to look out over the vineyard, two large bookcases towering behind it, each shelf packed with an abundance of titles stacked in a pell-mell. It looked positively regal, and Liam couldn’t help but smile at the image it conjured - Zayn as a feudal lord watching protectively over his kingdom and its people. 

A chocolate colored spread covered the bed, the pillows and sheets a soft turquoise. A veritable wall of pillows were propped along the headboard, the same cherry wood visible on the headboard behind them. The bed was positioned between two slightly smaller windows. The drapery also matched the rest of the linens throughout the room, a repeat of the cocoa sheers, topped by a cream valance swirled in black branches dotted with abstract turquoise flowers. A wide wingback armchair and ottoman were situated in front of another window. Unsurprisingly, an afghan had been tossed across the seat, this one stitched up in the same colors that filled the room. Of course his mum had made Zayn his own personal afghan. Other than the desk and bookcases, the rest of the room was neat as a pin, Zayn’s indelible personality filling the space as fully as if he stood there in the flesh. 

The dog sighed, drawing Liam’s attention back to him. 

“Sulking isn’t doing either of us a bit of good. He’ll be back soon enough. Come on.” Liam stood and patted his leg. “Let’s go eat.” Reluctantly Quinn jumped off the bed and headed down the stairs. Liam paused at the top and looked around one last time, hoping for some hidden insight to this man that he wanted back in his life. Just like Zayn, though, the room held its secrets close, and with a reluctant sigh Liam gave up. He wandered back downstairs to find his own dinner, already on edge in anticipation of another phone call with Zayn later on.

_“What’s the new album sound like?”_

Liam started, surprised by the question. He and Zayn had been on the phone for over an hour, the conversation monopolized mostly by discussing the lawsuit. Liam had been indignant at Simon’s gall, but not surprised. He’d been a right bastard about him and the lads recording again, trying to invoke a defunct clause in their original contracts to force them to stay with Syco. Their attorneys had shut it down, but the situation had been touch and go for over a year. They’d been careful not to record anything while the suit was in flux as a precaution, even going so far as to not keep hard copies of any ideas they came up with. He and Louis had gotten roaringly pissed when they received the phone call giving them the all clear to proceed with the album. Liam quickly shut that shit down, terrified he’d slip back into the same old habits that had sent him careening off the rails in the past. He’d mentioned it all in passing, but had refrained from the details, not wanting to make Zayn uncomfortable by talking about his former friends, but it seemed the subject wasn’t forbidden after all. 

“It’s… eclectic, I suppose, but in the best ways possible.” Liam stretched out on the sofa, an arm tucked behind his head. “We all took such different paths on our solo stuff. To be honest, we worried at first that coming back to the group might be a challenge, but it never was. \Are you asking to be polite, or -” Liam paused, giving Zayn a chance to back out of the conversation, before Liam launched into his favorite topic. 

_“No, not at all!”_ Zayn protested. _“I’m genuinely interested. You obviously haven’t looked too hard at the shelves under the sound system. Everyone’s solo albums are there, along with Made in the AM. It might not have been what I wanted to be performing, but you lot created something amazing with that last album, and the solo stuff is such an accurate representation of everyone’s individual personality.”_

“Maybe. My first one was a disaster.” Liam said, his tone matter of fact and without bitterness. 

_“Don’t say that. It wasn’t.”_ The indignation in Zayn’s tone made Liam smile. Still loyal, even after all these years.

“Yeah it was, Zee.” Liam laughed. “It’s all good. I made my peace with it a long time ago.”

_“Nah. Your promo was shite, but the music was decent.”_

“I made a lot of miscalculations, trusted the wrong people. The others were diving into so many new areas, really stretching themselves and going back to the sounds they loved, you know? And I tried to play it safe. The singles had done so well, I thought it was the formula I needed to stick to when it came to the album. When it flopped, I wallowed for a bit, then evaluated where it went wrong. I should have trusted my gut, believed in myself more. I’d done that with the EP, but then I let the label talk me into dumping the songs to get something out, and moving on from them. I shouldn’t have.” 

“ _Well, I liked that album, and the EP.”_ Zayn insisted. _“All of you have songs I really loved. Made a playlist and everything. I know I didn’t reach out, or say anything at the time, but I’m proper proud of all of you.”_

“It would have meant a lot if you’d said something.” Liam said quietly. 

_“Maybe. But after what happened, you know with Jay and the X-Factor and all… I knew I’d really blown any chance of mending fences by not being there. I figured it was better to let sleeping dogs lie.”_

Liam heard the note of finality in Zayn’s words. It was clearly a topic he didn’t want to get into, so Liam let it go. Maybe, in time, they might be able to talk about what happened. He knew how much Zayn’s absence had hurt Louis at the time, even if he’d never really brought it up. Obviously Zayn regretted the decision as well. 

_“Will you play me the album when I get back? I’ll sign a non-disclosure if you want me to.”_ Zayn’s sincerity left Liam speechless. _“I dropped in on some friends tonight. There’s not even a whiff on the streets that you’ve all been working together again. I_ won’t _do anything to jeopardize it.”_

“I… uh, yeah of course you can have a listen. You don’t have to sign anything, either.” 

_“The others might feel differently.”_ Zayn said with a sigh, resignation evident in his voice. _“Do they even know where you are?”_

“No they wouldn’t,” Liam replied, not entirely sure it was true, but he honestly didn’t care. “And yeah, they know I came looking for you.” 

_“I bet Lou tried to talk you out of it.”_

“C’mon, Zee. It’s not like-” 

_“Don’t bother trying to deny it.”_ Zayn chided, his tone softening when he continued. _“It’s fine, Liam. I know how he is. He was my best mate for years, remember? Louis is loyal to a fault, and will forgive a multitude of sins, but once he reaches his limit… he’s done, you know?”_

Liam didn’t disagree. How could he? Not when he knew Zayn was right. Instead, he changed the subject. 

“So do you know what time you’ll be back?” 

“Yeah. Probably around dinner. Once I finish at the deposition, I’ll run back to the flat and change, then hit the road. I’ll text when I’m on my way.” 

“Sounds good.” Liam pressed his thumb against his mouth and bit the inside of his lip. He wanted to broach what Zayn said the night before, but even after mulling on it during the day, he wasn’t sure how. 

_“About last night-”_

Okay. Apparently he wasn’t going to have to be the one to bring it up. 

_“I don’t want you to think… Look, you know what it was like back then.”_ Liam heard the unmistakable click of a lighter again, and it occurred to him that he’d seen no signs around the house that Zayn still smoked, and yet- “ _I wasn’t in a good place.”_

“None of us were. Not really.” Liam said, offering Zayn the opportunity to deflect again. 

_“You’re right, we weren’t. But me… I was drinking all the time, and my anxiety was a nightmare.”_ Zayn exhaled deeply. _“That quack Simon sent out to help us… Sheesh! What a bitch she was. She gave me some pills, you know?”_

“Yeah, I know.” Liam whispered, his stomach in knots. _No! No! No! Fuck! He didn’t want to hear this!_ He stood up and plodded across the room to the garden door. Leaning his head against the cold glass, he took several deep breaths, releasing them slowly in an effort to calm his racing heart.

 _“When they weren’t doing the trick anymore, she gave me different ones. Told me they’d sort me out, make things easier.”_ Zayn’s voice was thick and Liam’s heart sank. _“Then when I couldn’t sleep, she gave me some more. It was just one thing on top of the other. Pills when I woke up. Pills to go on stage. Pills to sleep. On top of it, Louis and I were drinking every night to wind down after the shows cause I was so keyed up from the adrenaline rush and the drugs.”_ Zayn took a deep breath. 

“Zayn, you don’t have to-” 

_“Yeah, Liam. Yeah, I do. After all these years, I owe you this much. I owe you the truth.”_ Zayn’s voice broke and with it, so did Liam. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and he shook his head in denial. Unaware of Liam’s distress, Zayn pushed on. _“Remember Florida? Fucking Matt Lauer. You knew the truth, and you still defended me.”_

Liam futilely swiped his eyes. He drew a stuttering breath. “It wasn’t like that, though. You still showed up.”

_“Because the goons Simon sent to the house to retrieve me threw me in a cold shower and shoved more pills down my throat to get me on the plane.”_

“You were sick,” Liam protested. “You planned to be there, but you were sick. You had a cold...” 

_“I didn’t have a cold, Li. I wasn’t sick, at least not the way I made you think. I was an addict. I am an addict.”_ Zayn spit the words out and they tore through Liam’s heart. _“I lied right to your face and counted on you believing me because you loved me, trusted me.”_

“But you-”

 _“You’re not listening, Liam!”_ Zayn raised his voice to talk over Liam’s excuses. “ _I knew I had a problem. I wanted to get clean, but they just kept pushing me. Record another song. Sit through another interview. Do another tour. It just kept piling on. I was mixing shite to get out of bed in the morning, to get through another day.”_ Zayn’s voice broke. Liam could hear him fighting to hold himself together. _“I woke up the day after the Hong Kong show, and I just... I cracked_. _I went back to my room so I wouldn’t wake you. Preston found me on the bathroom floor, heaving my guts out. I begged him to get me out of there, and bless him, he fucking did.”_

“You wouldn’t take my calls.” Liam pushed himself off the door and paced the room, so wound up he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

_“What was I going to say? ‘Sorry I flaked out and disappointed everyone.’ Right. Like that was gonna fly.”_

“How would you know? You didn’t give us a chance. So what, you changed your number so I wouldn’t call anymore? I came home from tour and all your stuff was gone. You removed every trace of yourself from our flat. Do you even know what it was like to walk into that?” 

_“Did you really expect me to be there?”_ Liam could hear the surprise in Zayn’s voice. 

“I didn’t know what to think! For all I knew you’d fallen off the face of the earth. I couldn’t reach you, couldn’t reach your mum. I drove all the way to Bradford and your dad sent me away, told me it was over. You didn’t even have the balls to tell me yourself.” 

_“I couldn’t.”_ Zayn spoke so low, Liam wasn’t sure he heard him.

“What?” Liam sat down on the sofa, his free hand balled in a fist next to him. Quinn whimpered at his feet, and Liam instinctively reached down to comfort him.

Zayn cleared his throat. _“I couldn’t tell you. I was in rehab. Simon sent me. Told me I had to stay away from all of you if I didn’t want to lose everything. I was so fucked up I believed him.”_

"So that was it, then? You walked away from your friends, hell you walked away from _us_ , and never looked back? Did you ever think we might have wanted to be there for you?” 

_“No! Fuck, Liam! I wasn’t thinking about anything except how to survive. You lot didn’t need me pulling you down, and you certainly did just fine without me.”_

“No we didn't. I know I didn’t. I’ve missed you every day for the last ten years.” Liam choked up at the admission and Quinn whined again, resting his paws on Liam’s knees, and licked Liam’s hand. 

_“You expect me to believe that?”_

“Whether or not you believe it doesn’t make it any less true.” Liam retorted. 

_“Whatever. I’ve been nothing but honest with you, at least give me the courtesy of doing the same.”_ Zayn’s tone was venomous.

“Why do you think I’m lying?”Liam asked, genuinely confused.

 _“I’m not stupid, Liam, and we do have the internet, even in the wilds of Pennsylvania. You missed me so fucking much, you fell right into Cheryl’s bed and had a kid. Miss me with that shite.”_ Zayn’s anger was palpable, his words vicious. _“Up until then, I’d hoped it was nothing, just another one of Simon’s little schemes.”_

“It was!”

Zayn continued talking, almost as if he hadn’t heard Liam. _“I’d thought, I hoped, if enough time passed, that maybe... I’d gotten a hold of my life, I was making plans to fly to London. I wanted to talk to you, tell you everything.”_ Zayn took a breath, and plunged on. _“Then you posted that picture on Instagram. The proud father with his newborn son.”_

“It wasn’t like that!”

_“You’re a better actor than you give yourself credit for, cause you really sold it, Liam.”_

“Do you really believe….” Liam snapped his mouth shut, at a loss for words.

“ _I guess I wasn’t doing as well as I thought, though, cause it sent me back round the bend. Simon missed out on a golden headline there, didn’t he? ‘How Liam Payne’s new baby sent Zayn back to rehab.’ He would have really hit paydirt with that one.”_ Zayn’s words were bitter, calculated and cruel.

Liam doubled over, feeling like he’d been punched in the stomach. He shook his head, his voice pained, even to his own ears. “I can’t do this. Not like this.” 

_“Do what? Face the truth?” Zayn snapped back. “Isn’t that why you came looking for me? To get answers? Well, there you go. I’m an addict, and you pushed me over the edge. Congratulations. You got your answers.”_

“No.” Liam whispered. He futilely swiped at the tears that fell unchecked down his cheeks. “I thought, if you still cared... there might still be a chance... I guess that was my first mistake - thinking you might have learned to care about anyone but yourself.”

 _“Liam, wait. That’s not what I meant-”_ Liam could hear the instant regret in Zayn’s voice. “Please- just let me explain-” 

“Don’t Zayn. Just… don’t.Forget it. It doesn’t matter…” Nothing mattered. Not anymore. “I can’t do this. Please. If we ever meant anything to each other, don’t call me back. Not tonight.”

“ _Liam-”_

Liam disconnected the call. He slid onto the floor and wrapped his arms around his legs, face buried between them, and broke down. He ignored the incessant ringing of his phone, sobbing uncontrollably for everything he’d once had, shattered by everything he’d lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	5. A Light in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _Flicker_ by Niall Horan

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

* * *

Zayn sat between his attorney and Molly, his mind wandering as the debate over the scope of Simon’s claims droned on around him. Despite demanding Zayn appear at the deposition, Simon hadn’t bothered to show up. When Mark questioned it, Simon’s attorneys waved it away, stating it was a corporate issue and “Mr. Cowell’s presence isn’t necessary.” That had led to an hour long disagreement over exactly what power Syco had to institute the lawsuit, when Sony was the actual majority stockholder with the largest vested interest, and Zayn had left RCA and Sony long before the songs in question were released. It was about that time Zayn’s boredom overtook him and he mentally checked out of the conversation. 

He’d abandoned decorum over an hour ago and had removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his collar. When that didn’t help, he’d alsp rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt. Despite the late autumn chill outside, the office seemed warm to the point of discomfort. He’d propped his elbow on the table, his chin nestled in his hand. No doubt he looked as bored as he felt, and he couldn’t be arsed to care. This entire trip had been a pointless waste of time, and it was patently obvious everyone else in the room knew it, too. He tilted his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. The dull throbbing pain behind his eyes had bloomed into a massive headache. He’d been thankful for the forgotten bottle of eyedrops he’d found in the medicine cabinet that morning but they’d done little to dispel the redness in his eyes brought on by a sleepless night filled with regrets.

Zayn cast a sideways glance to where Simon’s attorneys sat, both of them engrossed in reviewing the next batch of questions they planned to subject him to, then took a surreptitious glance at his phone. Damn it! It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet. He looked up again, then thumbed his messages open. The texts with Liam sat at the top, the last one he sent still delivered but unread. Molly’s manicured nail tapped on his leg, her fingers forming an okay sign, a worried expression on her face. He shook his head and shrugged. It wasn’t like he could explain it, anyway. 

He should have known talking with Liam would be a disaster. There were too many years, too much water under the bridge, and too much left unresolved to attempt to tackle it long distance. It didn’t help that they were both introverts, prone to internalizing their emotions, rather than sorting them out. It had made their past relationship a maelstrom at times, their attempts at avoiding confrontation frequently leading to explosions over trivial bullshit. Seemed like the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, if the previous night’s conversation was anything to go by. He just wished… well, fuck, it didn’t matter what he wished. The cat was out of the bag now, with no hope of shoving it back in.

He should have simply checked up on Quinn and then told Liam they’d talk when he got home. Instead, he’d dived in head first without considering the ramifications of baring it all the way he had. Liam’s confusion had put him on the defensive, automatically assuming the worst about Liam’s questions. In retrospect, under the clear light of a new day, he realised that Liam had been blindsided by the conversation, and was struggling to sort it all out in the midst of the shitstorm Zayn had rained down on him. Zayn knew his reaction had been inexcusable. He attacked like a cornered animal, swift and brutal, and immediately regretted it, but it was already too late. 

The revelations had left Liam shell-shocked and rather than fight back, he’d ended the conversation, after all but begging Zayn not to call him back, but the damage was done. Zayn had stared at the phone when Liam hung up, then immediately hit redial. The call eventually went to voicemail, and he tried again. And again. The sun was rising over Manhattan when he fell asleep, the phone still in his hand, Liam still not answering.

Zayn had fucked shit up so badly. Yet here he was, stuck dealing with this garbage lawsuit, when the only thing he cared about now was getting back to Rising Phoenix to fix things with Liam. 

“Mr Malik?” One of the suits, Zayn couldn’t be bothered to remember the smarmy bastard’s name, stood at the opposite end of the table, staring at him with an inquisitive look. 

“I’m sorry, were you talking to me?” Zayn didn’t bother to conceal the contempt in his tone. 

“I asked if you were ready to proceed.”

“Do I really have a choice?’ Zayn waved his hand, cutting off any response. “Nevermind. Let’s get this over with. Simon has monopolized way too much of my life for far too long.” 

“Fine.” The attorney motioned to the transcriber, and he began recording again. “Let’s move on to the next two songs in dispute, _Soul Burn_ and _When Chaos Ends_ , released digitally in September 2021 and January 2022, respectively. For the songs in question, can you pinpoint when they were written?” 

“Asked and answered,” Mark interjected. “Summer 2021, after his obligation to Syco had been fulfilled. Next question.” 

“Do you have documentation to support these dates?” 

“Yes.” Zayn answered. “I’m not sure of the exact dates, but-”

“Here.” Mark opened one of the files in front of him, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. “A receipt for studio time booked in June 2021, paid for in advance by Mr. Malik’s accountant. A copy has already been provided to you during disclosures.” 

“These dates are for recording the songs, not proof of when the song’s initial inception occured. When did the lyrics of the song first occur to you?” 

“Are you now stipulating that you have a financial claim to Mr. Malik’s thoughts? He has already stated that the songs were written that day in the studio. Presumption would consider that the day of origination, regardless of when inspiration occurred.” 

Simon’s attorneys leaned in to confer with each other and Zayn internalized a groan. Someday karma would come for Simon’s rancid, decaying ass, and when it did, Zayn intended to dance in the ashes of the bastard’s failed life. Fucking hypocrite deserved to burn in the hottest pits of hell for what he’d done to not only him, but the others - exploiting their talents and extorting reparations using blackmail and coercion to keep them under his thumb. 

When Louis and Harry had come out the previous summer, Zayn had privately cracked open a bottle of Cristal in their honor, thrilled his former friends were finally free to love each other as publicly as they’d done for so many years in secret. He knew first hand the struggles they’d endured, the battles they’d fought to protect their relationship. If anyone deserved every bit of happiness the world had to offer, it was Louis and Harry. He’d considered reaching out to congratulate them, rejecting the idea as soon as it arose. In the end, he’d settled for a simple tweet of two hearts and signed back out of social media, not bothering to wait for the fan’s reactions. He’d known what it was for and that was good enough. 

“Gentlemen,” Mark shuffled the files in front of him into a neat pile and stood, “it appears that you’re not prepared to proceed with this deposition.”

The second attorney motioned to the transcriber, and he moved to turn off the recorder. 

“No. Leave it on. I want this on the record.” The transcriber held up his hands and sat back. “Mr. Malik has driven to New York at considerable personal expense. Your stonewalling and delaying tactics are a blatant disregard for his time. It is my duty to protect the best interests of my client, and I am calling a halt to these proceedings. I am also submitting a motion for dismissal. Your suit has no merit, and I am certain, upon a review of the accumulated evidence, Judge Veniren will concur with this conclusion.” 

Mark inclined his head in Zayn’s direction, then nodded toward the door. Molly finished gathering up the remaining documents on the table, returning them to the file box she’d carried in at the beginning of the day. Zayn grabbed his jacket, not bothering to put it on before exiting the room. Mark quickly followed and shook his head when Zayn opened his mouth to speak. Simon’s attorneys exited without a word and made a beeline for the lift, clearly perplexed at the turn things had taken. Mark stopped to speak to his secretary, waving Zayn into his office. Molly also entered and took the seat next to Zayn’s. 

“Well. that was certainly easier and more effective than what I’d planned.” Molly said, then sighed. “Damn it! Does this mean I have to share my wine with him now?” 

Zayn couldn’t help but smile. “No, Molls, it’s yours. Mark has to work harder to get his wine. I pay him a lot more than he pays you.” 

“I heard that.” Mark entered and closed the door. “I’ll have you know she’s one of the top paid paralegals in this firm.” Mark retorted, then gestured toward the elevators. “As for those incompetent fucks-” he dropped the folders he held onto his desk. “If that’s the best Cowell can afford, it’s no wonder he lost controlling interest of his record label.”

“So that’s it? We’re done?” Zayn asked. 

“For now, yes.” Mark took a seat. “I told you the case had no merit, but even I had no idea how hard they were grasping at straws.” He turned his attention to Molly. “I need you to draft the motion for dismissal. You know the relevant cases to cite. I want it on my desk for review by the end of the day so we can file it first thing tomorrow.”

Molly nodded. “On it.” She stood and rested a hand on Zayn’s arm. “Have a safe trip home, and thanks again for the Cab. I promise to put it to good use.” 

“Anytime, Molly.” Zayn patted her hand. “Enjoy it.” 

She left and Zayn looked expectantly at Mark. “What’s next? Will I need to come in for the motion hearing?” 

“No, it’s not necessary, and I think that may be the end of it. We’ll see what the judge rules in regards to the merits of the case.” Mark removed his glasses and set them to the side. “I have to be honest, though - you’re in a really tricky position here. Cowell’s mask is starting to crack and the desperation is showing. How certain are you that he won’t out you to the press in retaliation?”

Zayn shrugged. “I’m not. It’s a chance I have to take.” 

“Obviously this isn’t my area of expertise, but I have other clients who’ve had to navigate those waters.” Mark reached into his desk and pulled out a business card, handing it to Zayn. “Here. This firm specializes in helping LGBT celebrities. They worked with Frank Ocean years ago, and his coming out was handled brilliantly.” 

Zayn eyed the card. “Mark, I can’t-”

Mark cut him off. “I’m not telling you to call them right this minute. I just think you need to evaluate all your options and consider who you want controlling the narrative - you or Cowell.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern, and if it were just my life, I’d have been out years ago.” Zayn stood and tucked his suit jacket over his arm. “I won’t put someone else’s peace and security in jeopardy to save my own skin, though.” 

“Well, if you’re still in contact, you might want to talk it over with them.” Mark stood and moved around the desk and walked Zayn out of his office. “You pay me to look out for your interests. That’s all I‘m trying to do.”

“I know you are, Mark.” Zayn shook his hand before stepping into the lift. “If anything changes, I’ll let you know,” he said, as the door closed. 

Zayn slumped back against the wall, his mind consumed with thoughts of the one person who would be most affected. The rumors surrounding him and Liam may not have been as prevalent as those concerning Louis and Harry, but there had been enough that the label had taken action to quash them. Would Liam be able to risk that kind of exposure? The question remained moot if Liam wouldn’t speak to him. He checked his messages again. Still nothing. Rising panic filled Zayn. What if he was already too late? What if Liam had decided to return to London? He could only hope Liam’s sense of obligation would override any other decision he might make. With that thin thread of hope to hold onto, he hurried to his car and rushed back to the flat to change. 

Zayn tossed his overnight in the back of his Lexus, and settled into the driver’s seat. Liam still hadn’t responded to his texts, despite having read them. Out of options, he made one last attempt to reach Liam before getting on the road.

The call rang through to voicemail and Zayn growled in frustration while he waited for the tone. He took a staggered breath and rushed through the message, praying Liam listened to it.

“I’m leaving the city now. I’ll be home in four hours, five tops. I know you’re hurt, probably angry. I don’t blame you. You have every right to be. I’m so fucking sorry.” Zayn rested his forehead on the steering wheel, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, tears prickling behind his eyes. “Just… Please. Give me one last chance. I’m begging you. Don’t leave before I get back. We need to talk this through.” 

Zayn pulled into Rising Phoenix shortly after seven o’clock. Between heavy traffic in the city and a multi-car accident on I-81, it had taken nearly an extra two hours to get home. He had tried calling Liam when he stopped for gas, but hung up when it went to voicemail again. What was the point of leaving a message? Liam was either ignoring them, or still too wound up from last night to answer. He passed by the brightly lit inn and followed the drive to his cottage, his heart sinking when he saw the darkened windows. He was too late. 

The last lingering bit of hope washed away. Zayn knew he’d fucked up, but he’d misjudged Liam’s capacity for forgiveness. Ten years ago, Liam would have waited, would have given him a chance. Then again, ten years ago, still so unsure about his place in the world and desperate for acceptance, Liam would have taken all the blame on himself, too, and bent over backwards to excuse someone else’s behavior. While he knew he should be glad Liam had moved past his insecurities, all he really felt - was empty. 

With a heavy heart, Zayn pulled the car into the garage and activated the door closer, then killed the engine and lights, submerging the room in darkness. He sat for a moment and took several deep breaths to center himself. The urge to sink into himself and wallow was overshadowed by a desire to make sure Quinn was okay, especially since he’d yet to hear him bark. Leaving his bag in the car, he unlocked the door and entered the hallway. He was greeted by the lonely light over the stove, it’s feeble glow doing little to dispel the encroaching night. Still no Quinn. 

Zayn let loose a piercing whistle, expecting to hear the sound of Quinn’s nails clacking on the hardwood floors.

Nothing. 

“Quinn! Liam? I’m home!” His voice echoed through the stillness of the house. 

Gone from bereft to anxious, Zayn pulled out his phone and scrolled for Liam’s phone number. Before he could hit the dial button, he heard a key in the front lock, and Liam’s voice chastising the dog. 

“Ouch! Damn it! Calm down, you silly thing!” The door opened and Liam continued talking, while Quinn tore across the house into the kitchen to jump around Zayn and welcome him home. “Hold on!”The door closed and Liam called from the foyer.“You’ll get your treat, I promise. Just let me get my trainers off.” 

Zayn took a deep breath and walked around the island. He stepped out of the shadows, his eyes devouring the sight in front of him. Liam had crouched down to untie his shoes, unaware of the man behind him. Joggers clung to his thighs, accentuating the muscle definition, the oversized hoodie doing nothing to distract from how fit Liam still was. Liam stood and reached behind his head to tug the hoodie off. His body emerged from underneath the thick fabric and Zayn’s mouth went dry. The plain white t-shirt Liam wore had soaked through with sweat and clung to his still trim abdomen like a second skin. 

He cleared his throat and Liam whirled around, his fists balled and held at the ready. 

“You- you’re still here,” Zayn stuttered over the words. He stepped closer, afraid to blink in case Liam disappeared again. 

“Fuck! You scared me.” Liam dropped his hands, though his expression remained perplexed and wary. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? I promised to take care of Quinn.” 

Zayn didn’t bother answering. He stepped closer, hesitated for less time than it took to blink, then wrapped his arms around Liam’s waist. 

“Zayn? Are you- Is everything- Zee, I’m covered in sweat and need a shower. Your clothes are going to stink.”

Zayn held him tighter and Liam relaxed into the hug, returning it. Zayn shivered, suddenly overcome. 

“I thought - after last night - you’d be gone when I got home.” Zayn’s face was buried in Liam’s shirt, his words muffled, but he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. Tears threatened behind his closed eyelids. He drew a ragged breath to steady himself then stepped back. 

“Li. I didn’t mean what I said, honest. I - I was scared and lashed out. I shouldn’t have.” 

Liam dragged his hand through his hair, his nose wrinkling. He tugged on the saturated shirt, visibly uncomfortable. 

“Did you stop? Have you eaten?” He asked. 

“What? I- No.” Zayn replied, confused and on edge. Was he just supposed to pretend the night before hadn’t happened? But… “Traffic was shite in the city, and then there was this accident…”

“What accident?” Liam grabbed Zayn’s hands. “Were you in an accident? Are you hurt?” He ran his hands up and down Zayn’s arms, worriedly looking him over. 

“No. Not me. There was a big accident on the interstate. It held up traffic forever. I tried to call, but you didn’t answer. You didn’t reply to my texts. I figured you left after what happened last night.”

“I wouldn’t have done that.” Liam said, his tone frustrated. “I - I mean yeah, I was confused and hurt by what you said, but…” Liam stepped away and picked up his sweatshirt from where it had fallen to the floor. “I wouldn’t just leave like that - leave everything hanging between us. What the hell would that solve? I came here to talk, not run away when it got difficult.” 

Zayn bristled , certain he heard a hidden accusation. He eyed Liam warily. “Like I did, right?” 

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just wasn’t willing to leave everything unresolved, and then have to wonder ‘what if’ the rest of my life.” Liam lifted his hands in exasperation, then dropped them, his nose wrinkling again. “Look, I’m going to go take a shower. I’m offending myself. Give Quinn some treats. He went for a run with me, and he earned them.” 

Liam turned to open the bedroom door. “Give me like ten minutes to clean up.”

“Right. Okay. Uhmm, Liam?”Zayn stood where he was, heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was certain Liam could hear it. He waited until Liam turned, his eyebrow lifted questioningly, before he continued. “I’m glad you didn’t leave.” 

Liam shook his head, then nodded. Without a word, he entered the room and closed the door. Zayn slumped, forcing out a heavy breath. _Liam was still here._ He closed his eyes under the weight of relief, refusing to obsess over the conversation to come. For now, Liam was here, and that was a start. 

Zayn’s train of thought derailed when he recalled the image of Liam standing in his doorway, the solid feel of him under his hands. _Wallah!_ It should be criminal for a 32 year old popstar to still look that good. He chuckled to himself. Even after all these years, Liam could distract him just by existing. During their phone call earlier in the week, Zayn and Dr. Banyan had discussed the importance of Zayn keeping perspective between the past and present. It was damn hard to maintain, though, when every time he looked at Liam he still saw glimpses of the boy he’d fallen in love with almost fifteen years ago. It wasn’t even a case of not being grounded in reality or harbouring unrealistic expectations. The difficulty laid entirely immersed in the fact that, despite the passage of time and all that had happened since, Zayn still loved Liam. Admitting it out loud to his therapist hadn’t been nearly as hard as he thought it would be. Living with it though - that was a different story. 

Shaking off the mental spiral his thoughts had taken, Zayn forced himself to focus on what Liam had asked him to do. _Right. Treats for Quinn_. Zayn looked around for the dog, and found him sprawled out on the floor in front of the cabinet, fast asleep. He stifled a laugh at his ridiculous dog. Quinn’s tail thumped the floor, his eyes still shut, when Zayn walked back into the kitchen. The poor thing looked exhausted. Granted it was getting late, but fuck’s sake how far did Liam run? Zayn nudged him with his foot, and Quinn rolled over, exposing his fat little tummy to be patted. Zayn shook his head, laughing out loud. 

“If you want treats, you have to move over, you little shite.” Quinn opened one eye, his tail wagging faster, and whined. Zayn gave him a gentle shove. “I can’t open the door if your arse is in the way.” Quinn rolled back over to his feet and stretched, ending in a yawn. Zayn crouched down and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Did you miss me? Or did you throw me over for Liam?” Quinn wriggled under Zayn’s arm and licked his chin. “Trying to make up now, are you? It’s fine. I can’t say I blame you. I already know how charming he is.” 

“Who’s charming?” 

Zayn looked up to see Liam walking across the kitchen. He had on a different pair of joggers and a black Batman t-shirt, the logo worn and faded from years of washing. Damp tendrils of hair curled across his forehead, reminding Zayn of a time when Harry wasn’t the only curly one in the band. He had to look away to keep from staring. He was saved from answering the question when Quinn bolted across the room to jump up on Liam’s legs, distracting him from the conversation. 

“Little traitor,” Zayn said, knowing he didn’t mean a bit of it. 

“No he’s not!” Liam held up Quinn’s ears and waggled them from side to side. “Who’s the bat dog? Who’s the brave boy? You are, aren’t you? Such a good boy.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes and busied himself in the cupboard to buy himself time. He could feel the embarrassed blush of affection staining his cheeks. He gripped the shelf, using the tangible feel of it’s surface in his hand to ground him from the race of emotions. When he felt sufficiently composed, he closed the door and laid the pile of treats on the island. 

“Here you go. You’re the one that took him out, it’s only fair you get to reward him.” Liam looked up from where he still fawned over Quinn, his eyes bright, his smile warm and encompassing. Zayn’s heart flipped again. Thankfully, Liam was distracted with Quinn. “I’m going to cheat and run to the inn for dinner. Did you eat before you went for your run?” 

“Nah. I didn’t much feel like it.” Lam tossed the bone up for Quinn to catch, then looked at Zayn. “I don’t think us eating together at the inn is a good idea, though. Like, I know your staff can be trusted, but the other guests…” His voice drifted off. 

“Oh, no I wasn’t suggesting we eat at the inn!” Liam frowned and Zayn quickly amended his statement. “Not that I wouldn’t like to eat with you, but like, what you said, you know? I’m going to call the kitchen and have them put together some take away, if that works for you?” 

“Oh. yeah, that makes sense.” Liam gave Quinn the second bone and brushed off his hands, coming over to lean on the island across from Zayn. “That’d be nice.”

“So you’ll join me?” Zayn picked up his phone and dialed. 

“Absolutely. I’d like that.” 

Zayn basked in the warm comfort of Liam’s soft smile, his stomach fluttering under the quiet regard in Liam’s eyes. Perspective, he reminded himself, knowing the warning was futile. He’d been in too deep from the minute Liam arrived. He only hoped he could tread long enough to keep his head above the water.

“What’s on the menu tonight, Lis?” Zayn walked through the back door of the kitchen to find Lissie putting lids on takeaway containers. 

“Oh! I didn’t expect you so soon! I’m still packing everything up.” Lissie smiled at Zayn, blushing when he gave her a hug. “It’s nothing too fancy tonight. A simple Caesar salad. Baked Alfredo with chicken and shrimp, and a side of steamed Normandy vegetables for color. Parmesan herb bread,” she held up each dish as she slid them into travel bags, “and for dessert, a decadent white chocolate raspberry cheesecake with lemon butter crust.” 

“Fancy enough,” Zayn said, impressed as always with how well she orchestrated the menus served at the inn. “Sounds perfect. I appreciate you taking the time to gather it all together.” 

“If it’s not too forward,” Lissie looked around to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear, then leaned in closer, “since you asked for two meals, I assume Liam is joining you? It’s just, we haven’t seen him in the dining room the past couple of nights, and Lauren mentioned he was caring for Quinn.” she added in a rush.

“”He is.” Zayn replied, hiding a smile. “And yes, he was, but I’d prefer-” 

“Oh no!” Lissie interrupted. “I assure you, we weren’t gossiping. I had simply asked after him out of concern when he didn’t appear for several meals. I would never...” She trailed off in embarrassment. 

“He’s perfectly healthy.” Zayn reassured her. “He’s been working his way through my freezer, apparently.”

“Right. Well, please give him my regards. He has such a lovely smile. It was missed.” 

“That he does.” Zayn absently answered as he gathered up the bags. “Thank you again, Lissie. I’ll let Liam know you asked after him.” With a jaunty salute, he slipped back out the way he came and picked his way carefully across the darkened yard. _That he does_ , he thought again to himself, remembering all the times that smile had made a day more bearable in the past. He only hoped he’d still be graced with it in the future. 

He re-entered the cottage and was met with an old R&B track playing low on the sound system. The main room was still dark, ambient light from the kitchen the only illumination. Liam hovered at the island, two place settings already arranged, empty glasses next to each plate. 

“I set out plates and flatware. I wasn’t sure if you’d prefer here or the table, but it’s only the two of us, and I thought this would be more comfortable.” Liam twisted a strand of hair around his finger, an unconscious tell when he was nervous. “I didn’t know what you wanted to drink either, and I wasn’t sure…” 

“Here’s fine.” Zayn said softly, touched by how anxious Liam appeared. He’d been the one to drop a huge bombshell in the middle of their last conversation, and yet Liam worried about making him uncomfortable? Zayn fought the urge to shake his head in disbelief. He set the bags down and began removing the containers. “It’s Baked Alfredo. I hope that’s okay?”He removed the lid off one of the two larger containers, the rich cream and garlic aroma filling the air. 

Liam sniffed appreciatively. “Yeah, definitely. That smells divine.” 

“Maybe grab a couple salad plates? Lissie set us up with a full meal. She sends her regards, by the way. Said she missed your smile in the dining room.” 

Liam reached for the cabinet door, pausing at Zayn’s words. “This isn’t posing a problem for you, is it? My being here?” 

“It was never a problem for me. You have way more to lose than I do in all of this, Liam.” Zayn busied himself with plating the food. “If word gets out-” 

“So what if it does.” Liam set the salad plates on the island, his tone defiant. “We’re old friends getting reacquainted.” 

“I think ‘friends’ would be a rather loose interpretation of our past, wouldn’t you? If it weren’t, things might have been much different.” 

“Not many people believed i ~~t~~ , anyway. Maybe a handful of fans.” Liam shrugged and settled onto one of the stools. “It’s not like we’re Lou and Haz, where all the attempts to hide it were blatantly over the top and just made it more obvious.”

Zayn rubbed his hand across his right bicep, remembering just how far covering up their relationship had extended. “Perhaps,” he said, knowing otherwise. He’d hidden the visible marks of the lengths management had gone to long ago, but they both still bore the emotional scars. Changing the subject, he waved at the empty glasses. “What about a glass of Reisling?” 

Liam stared at the glass, as if weighing his options. “I think, maybe, a glass of water would be better tonight.” 

Zayn filled the glasses and brought them back to the table. “Have you had a chance to sample any of the vineyard’s wines?” 

“Yeah. The night I arrived I tried the Merlot. I really enjoyed it. It’s just- I’m careful with alcohol in general. It got out of hand for a while, you know?” 

The memory of images of Liam standing on the edge of a balcony flashed through Zayn’s mind. “Yeah. I know.” He busied himself with putting his napkin in his lap, not sure how far Liam wanted to carry the topic.

“That last year- I don’t remember most of it, especially after you left. It made things easier to deal with if I was numb. And then the hiatus happened, and I had nowhere to go, nothing to do.“ I realized I didn’t really like the person I became when I got pissed. It clouded my judgement and I made some really stupid decisions.” Liam took a sip of water. “It took a while, but I learned it was better not to mix emotions and alcohol.”

“But you’re good now?” 

“Yeah, ‘m good.” Liam picked up his fork. “There was a book my therapist had recommended. It gave me some perspective. Helped me sort out how to handle my problems, rather than drowning them.” Liam stared at his plate, slowly bowing his head, almost as if reassuring himself, and took a bite of the pasta. He chewed slowly, then looked up. “But yeah, I’m good.” 

“It was the Akbar book, wasn’t it? The one you left in the library.” 

Liam nodded. “It surprised me to find it on the shelves. It was the last thing I expected, yet exactly what I needed. When I got back to my room, I realized you’d been holding the same book in your hands.” He shrugged with a wry laugh. “It’s almost ironic, really. I mean, what’s the likelihood we’d both choose the same book?”

“When you consider the reasons why we’d both been reading it, maybe not that ironic after all.” Zayn said. 

“True.” 

Seemingly, by tacit agreement, they veered away from that topic, as if both felt the need to hold onto the peace for a bit longer. Instead, Zayn steered the conversation around to the album, asking Liam questions about the music and the producers he and the others had worked with. “Terry? Really?” Liam nodded and Zayn cackled in amusement. Liam looked at him quizzically. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Remember the friends I dropped in on yesterday?” 

“Terry was one of them?”

Yeah. That sneaky bastard. Well, at least you know if the album leaks, it didn’t come from him.” 

Liam laughed along with him. “He’s a top lad. Really helped us capture what we were looking for on the tracks he produced.”

“You said I could listen,” Zayn reminded him as he stood to clear their empty plates. 

“Yeah, sure. Let me clean up the dishes first, and then I’ll grab my laptop.” 

“I’ve got this,” Zayn waved him away. “Besides, I know how nerve-wracking playing your music is for someone. Better we have something to occupy us while I listen.” Liam attempted to protest, but Zayn insisted. “Go. Grab your laptop. Let me hear the brave new sound of One Direction.” 

Liam did as Zayn asked, setting it down where his plate had been. “I can link through the bluetooth into your speakers.” 

“Go ahead. Give me the full immersion.” Zayn turned down the tap to a trickle, not wanting to miss a second of the music. He watched Liam as he cued it up. “Last chance. Sure you don’t want that NDA?” 

“Not necessary,” Liam said, shaking his head. “Besides, I know where you live. I’ll send Tommo to kill you in your sleep.” 

Zayn laughed. “I hate to tell ya, babe, but I’m pretty positive it would take much less than that for Louis to hunt me down if given the chance.” 

Liam tilted his head and furrowed his brow. Zayn could see him struggling with whether or not to reply. In the end, he simply hit play. Zayn noted his defensive stance, and turned back to the sink. He let the opening chords wash over him, the soft strings building to explode in a crescendo, a strong backbone to the electric guitar and drums that joined them. His eyes widened through the poignant lyrics euphemistically chronicling the struggles of lives confined to the shadows, but finding the light. Liam’s falsetto built through a strong chorus of finding truth, and Zayn couldn’t help the low appreciative whistle that escaped him. He grabbed a towel to wipe his hands, stepping over to the table to pause the playback. 

“Harry wrote that, didn’t he?” 

“Uhm, yeah, he did.” Liam looked surprised at Zayn’s observation. “How’d you know?”

“I told you, I have everyone’s albums. Louis’s lyrics are always very straightforward, raw, even when buried in rhetoric. Yours tend to be more blunt, but melodic. Niall’s are - I can’t explain what it is, but I always know when it’s something Niall has written. There’s just this stamp to it. But Harry - he weaves the most exquisite story-telling in his music, it’s nuanced and layered in symbolism. It’s so easy to read his heart in his songs.” 

“There’s a lot of people who would argue that.” Liam retorted with a snort. 

“Alright, I’ll amend that observation, then. Here.” Zayn handed Liam his laptop and motioned for him to follow. He turned on the overhead canister lights in the main room, dimming them to a level more suitable for a casual conversation. ~~”~~ “Sit. I’ll get our glasses while I explain.” He turned off the kitchen light on his way back across the room. “Maybe it’s just easy to read Harry when you know him like we do, or like I once did.”

Liam accepted his glass, setting it down on the table. “You know, that was one thing that really hurt all of us.” 

Zayn settled next to him, probably a little too close, but fuck it. “What was?” Zayn asked, confused about where the conversation was going. 

You did an interview - I think it was around the time _Icarus Falls_ was released, maybe a bit earlier during the lead-up. Anyway, that part doesn’t matter.” Liam stared at his laptop, his fingers nervously tapping the edge of the keyboard.” You said you never really had any friends in the band, and that you and Harry never got on. It hit all of us like a tonne of bricks. For the first time, we felt like everything you had done was a betrayal, and it didn’t sit well.” 

“Louis had a proper strop, didn’t he?” 

“Some things may have been broken when he threw a chair across the room.”

“Really?” Zayn couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “He was that furious? Wow.” 

“It was like a nail in the coffin for him, Zee.” Liam set the laptop on the table and took a sip from his glass. “You guys got matching tattoos because you were so close, and then to say you were never friends? How did you think he was going to take it?”

“There was so much shite in the interviews I did. They’d fabricated this whole image of the loner bad boy striking out to defy the world, you know? Playing up that mysterious image they’d crafted for me in some boardroom at Syco when I was just a kid. I’m not that person. I was never that person.” Zayn muttered a curse under his breath. “You know me, Liam. You always knew me better than anyone else. I collected comic books, drew crazy shite, and liked music that was one hundred and eighty degrees away from what we did in One Direction.” He stared at his hands, rubbing across the tattooed letters on his knuckles. “In some ways, leaving was worse than staying would have been. I didn’t even manage to get away from Simon’s control. He even personally selected my manager, and I had no say in it. I had no say in anything. I may have been farmed out to RCA, but make no mistake, Simon still pulled the strings.”

“I’d suspected. We heard things, but you know what it was like - a mafia code of silence was less stringent.”

“I’m not gonna lie or try to sugar coat things.” Zayn pulled in on himself, knowing he was about to shatter the peace. “I don’t remember a lot from right after I left. And when I started to get better - it just all crashed down on me again.” 

“Because of me.” Liam spoke low, his shoulders hunched over. Zayn curled his hands into fists, fighting the instinct to pull Liam close and comfort him, like they’d done for each other so many times in the past. 

“No, not because of you, and I shouldn’t have lashed out like that last night. It’s not like you deliberately had a kid to hurt me. For all you knew I didn’t give a shite.” Zayn grimaced. “I really was planning to come back to London and talk to you, despite Simon’s edict to stay away. I figured - you were on hiatus, you were all signing with new labels, what real power would he have any more?” Zayn leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He took a slow, deep breath, counting through it, then exhaled just as slowly. “I never considered the possibility that I’d really lost you, even though you had no reason to think I’d come back. Then there was the picture… Suddenly I had to face reality, and I wasn’t prepared for the way it ripped my heart apart. I thought I had dealt with it, but maybe not all of it.”

Zayn watched Liam press his knuckle against his lip, likely biting the inside of his lip. Another one of those unconscious tells. “That situation - it’s complicated.” 

“Try me.” Zayn said, even as he steeled himself for whatever was to come. 

“You’re right, Bear is my son. And I am proud of him. But I never slept with Cheryl.” Liam stared at Zayn while he spoke, his eyes pleading for him to understand. 

“I’m not sure I’m getting your meaning here. Are you saying-” Zayn shook his head. “But, how-” 

‘The miracle of modern medical science. I showed up at the doctor’s office, took care of business in a cup, and they handled the rest of it.” Liam shrugged, “Cheryl wanted a kid. It made my mum and dad happy, and at the time, I didn’t much give a shite about anything, so I figured, why not? It wasn’t like anyone was going to get hurt. Or at least, I didn’t think anyone would.” Zayn looked down in surprise when Liam took his hand. “If I had thought, for even a minute, I would have never-” 

“But you were dating…” Zayn shook his head in confusion. 

“Not any more than I dated Sophia. Simon needed publicity and so did Cheryl.” Liam squeezed Zayn’s hand. “C’mon. That shite was just weird. Hell, my older sisters are younger than her. It was never anything real.”

“I don’t even-” Zayn stared at their interlocked fingers, something that had once seemed so normal. He shook his head. “What a fucking mess.”

“Did you - I mean, was that really what-” 

Sent me back to rehab?” Zayn sighed. “Yeah. Your mum flew over with my mum so she wouldn’t have to deal with everything alone. I don’t even know for sure what all I took. All I know is I woke up in the hospital, my mum sitting in a chair next to the bed crying, and your mum hugging her.” 

“She never said a word.” 

“I know she didn’t. She wanted to support me through recovery, and I only agreed to accept her help if she swore to never say a word about me to anyone.” Zayn drew a stuttering breath and gave up trying to hold back his tears. “To be honest, I never expected it to actually last, especially after I left New Beginnings and moved to the farm. I figured she’d just stop calling one day. She never did.” Zayn looked up at Liam, surprised to see him crying as well. His voice cracked when he continued speaking. “Don’t be mad at her, Liam. Please. I hate that I made her choose. I should have never done that to her, or to you.” 

“You’re right.” Liam dragged his free hand through his hair, and Zayn heard the tremor in his voice. 

“About?” Zayn turned his head and swiped his cheek across his shoulder.

“We _are_ a mess,” Zayn’s breath caught when Liam reached over and gently wiped away the tears under his eyes, “but we’ll figure it out.” 

Zayn settled into Liam’s side. Liam put an arm around his shoulder and Zayn rested his head against his shoulder, suddenly too wrung out to think anymore. Would they figure it out? Liam had to go back to his life in two days, and he’d still be in Pennsylvania. Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	6. You Make Me Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _The Beauty of Who You Are_ by Mark Broussard

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

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Liam wasn’t sure how long they sat curled around each other on the sofa, but he felt when Zayn finally succumbed to sleep. Still he sat on, mulling over everything they’d said to each other. He had almost confessed how much he still cared for Zayn, that he was still in love with him, but somehow, he’d known it wasn’t the right time. With only two days left, he didn’t know if there’d ever be a right time.

Zayn shifted, pulling his legs up on the sofa and sliding down to pillow his head against Liam’s stomach. Liam softly brushed the swoop of hair off Zayn’s forehead, noticing for the first time the dark circles under his eyes. The past two days had been emotionally brutal, and had obviously taken a toll on Zayn, too. Liam brought his arm down to check the time. Nearly one o’clock. He eased himself to the side and laid Zayn’s head on the sofa to stand up. He didn’t want to wake him, but knew he’d sleep like shit if he stayed where he was. 

Liam glanced at the stairs. No fucking way. He was pretty fit, and Zayn was still smaller than him, but he’d kill both of them if he tried to carry Zayn up to his room. He looked around, then walked into his room. After a quick trip to the bathroom, he pulled the covers down on the bed in the second bedroom and returned to the living room. 

Bending down to pick him up, Liam hesitated when Zayn shifted and nuzzled into Liam's chest, hand pressed against Liam’s heart. Gently, he carried Zayn into the bedroom and laid him on the bed, tucking the covers up around him. Liam smoothed his hand over Zayn’s hair, leaning down to kiss the furrow between his eyes. 

“Sleep well.” he whispered, pulling the door closed on his way out. 

He let Quinn out, and while he patrolled the yard, Liam collected the glasses and closed his laptop. They’d never made it past the first song. Maybe in the morning. He locked up the house, leaving a nightlight on in the kitchen. Quinn laid stretched out in front of the door to the second bedroom, sitting up to stare woefully at Liam when he walked toward him. Liam opened the door,and continued across the hall. Turning to close the door to his own room, he noticed the dog still sitting in front of the other door, his head cocked to the side, looking between Liam and the darkened room. 

“Go on, boy. He won’t kick a fuss. He missed you, too.” Quinn took a few steps toward Liam, stopping halfway, then turning back. He stood inside the opposite room, whining low. “It’s fine, buddy. I’ve got my own bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” Liam pushed the door to, but didn’t shut it tight. Just in case. 

Liam woke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee wafting around the house. He slid his hand out from under his head, reaching for his phone laying on the night table. He squinted at the time. Nearly nine o’clock. Fuck! Zayn had probably already been for his ride. He heard the shuffle of dishes coming from the kitchen and shoved aside the covers. Sliding out of bed, he shivered at the chill in the room, and headed to the bathroom to have a wee and splash some water on his face. The hardwood floors were cold under his feet, the thick area rug next to the bed a welcome respite. He changed quickly, tugging on a pair of socks and adding a jumper over top of his long sleeved polo. He gathered up the few things he’d brought over from the inn so he could pack them up. With Zayn home, there was no reason for him to continue staying at the cottage. 

Whirling around at the sound of the door opening, Liam saw Quinn shoving his head through the narrow opening and wriggling through the gap. He darted over and jumped on the bed next to where Liam sat. 

“Come to say good morning?” Liam scratched behind his ears, chucking when Quinn pushed against his hand for more attention. “I don’t know, buddy. You didn’t even bring me a cup of coffee, but you expect me to pet you? Seems like a pretty unfair trade-off.” 

“There’s a fresh pot in the kitchen.” Liam looked up to see Zayn leaning against the doorframe, a cup in his hands. “There’s also muffins. I was about to head down and take Cool out for a ride, if you want to join me.” 

“That’d be great. I thought you might have already gone out.” Liam gave Quinn a shove to move him off the clothing. “Do I have enough time for a cup of coffee first?” 

“You’re packing?” Zayn asked.

Liam looked up to see Zayn eyeing the pile with disappointment. 

“Well- yeah. You’re home.” 

Without a word, Zayn walked away. Confused, Liam watched him leave. He dropped the shirt in his hand and followed. 

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked when he caught up to him in the kitchen. Zayn stood at the door looking out over the backyard, his arms folded across his chest. “Zee?”

“I thought you’d stay.” 

“Here?” Zayn nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Why? You asked me to watch Quinn while you were gone. Now you’re back. You don’t need me anymore.” 

“Right. Of course.” 

Liam moved to see Zayn’s face, and he turned away. 

“No.” Liam grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. “Don’t. Don’t do this. I’m not a fucking mindreader, Zayn.”

“After last night-” Zayn shrugged, tightening his arms around himself. 

“What?” Liam huffed in exasperation, and threw his hands up. “I don’t know what you're expecting from me. You want me to stay? Then ask. But I’m sure as fuck not going to presume to know what you’re thinking.” 

“Now you’re mad.” 

“I’m not mad. I’m just really fucking confused, and this passive agressive bullshite is frustrating as hell.” Liam softened, cautiously laying his hand on Zayn’s arm. “Talk to me. What do you want, Zayn?” 

“I want you to stay.” Zayn loosened his hand from his side, and brought it over to rest on Liam’s. “You’re only here for two more days, and I don’t want to lose any more time with you than I already have.” 

“Fine. I’ll stay.” 

Zayn visibly relaxed. “Just like that?” 

“Yeah.” Liam smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Just like that.” He turned his hand, rubbing his thumb across Zayn’s knuckles. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Amazing what you can accomplish if you set your mind to it.” 

“You’re a dick.” Zayn laughed and shoved him toward the coffee pot. “Go. Get your coffee. The horses probably think we deserted them.”

Unlike their first ride together that had been spent largely in silence, they rode abreast this time. Zayn told Liam about what had happened during the deposition, including the way Mark had shut down Simon’s attorneys. 

“So it’s done, then?” Liam asked. 

A shadow fell over Zayn’s eyes and his smile fell. He recovered quickly. “For now it is, yeah. But… It’s Simon, you know? He’ll never admit he lost. He’s too much of a psychopath for that. So long as that bastard’s alive, I’ll always be watching my back.”

“I hear that.” Liam shook his head. “When we decided to regroup and work on another album, Simon jumped right in with multiple injunctions to try to stop us. He didn’t have much to stand on, but in his mind, he owned us, and we owed him - even after everything he’d sucked from us when we were still under the Syco label.” 

“Don’t trust him, Liam.” Zayn cautioned, genuine concern in his voice “He’s a fucking viper, and will strike when you least expect it.” 

“That’s why Lou and Haz came out.” Liam said, registering the shock on Zayn’s face. 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah. Simon lost his shite in a meeting, and apparently it wasn’t pretty.” Liam smirked. “His employees aren’t nearly as soulless as he is, apparently. He was raging on about loyalty and how he’d make us all pay. He’d planned to leak pictures and videos of Louis and Harry - stuff from behind the scenes over the years. Nothing overt or anything, but enough to out them. A secretary from his office called one of our attorneys to give our team a heads up. They’d already been working on plans to do it anyway, it just upped the timeline.” 

“No shite?” Zayn asked. “Fuck! Simon must have been livid.” He lifted his free hand to scratch the light scruff on his jaw, his expression thoughtful. “Do you ever worry about that?”

“About being outed?” Liam tilted his head and pondered the possibility. “I suppose I’d never really thought about it, to be honest.” 

“Why not?” 

“Well, first of all, who’d actually believe it?” They reached the clearing below the hill, and Liam drew Travesty to a stop after turning to face Zayn. “No one really suspected anything, and after you left, most of the fans who did believe it considered it done and dusted.” 

“Was there ever anyone else-?” Zayn paused and stared off at the horizon. “Nevermind. It’s none of my business.”

“Isn’t it, though?” 

“How do you figure?” Zayn sounded pensive. He tightened his hold on the reins, his knuckles whitening with hidden tension. “I left. I have no right to even ask.”Cool pranced under him at the added restraint, and he relaxed his hold, leaning forward to soothe the horse back to a standstill. 

Liam slid off Travesty and looped the reins around a nearby branch. He walked along the treeline, with no real intent, just a need to move. 

“Li?” 

Liam continued walking, picking up the occasional branch and tossing it across the field. 

“Liam?” Zayn’s voice was insistent, demanding. “What are you-? Where are you going?” 

Liam stopped where he was, a good ten metres from where he’d left Zayn, and stared off into the distance. He scrubbed a hand across his face, taking a deep breath to calm the sudden racing of his heart. Behind him, he heard Zayn talking to the horses, then the snap of the fallen branches under his feet. He walked around Liam to stand face to face, his eyes searching Liam’s for answers. 

“Is everything okay?” Zayn reached to touch Liam’s arm, then withdrew.

“It’s so peaceful here, you know?” Liam let loose a self-deprecating laugh. “Of course you know, you live here. When my attorney first told me where she thought you might be, I couldn’t understand why. It’s so far away from where you grew up. Not just your family, but,” Liam waved his hand,” all of this. It’s nothing like Bradford. It’s certainly nothing like the life we lived, or the one we once talked about having.” 

“I think that was the point.” Zayn bristled. “I’d lived that life. The parties, the hangers-on, the bullshite. It was only after I ended up at New Beginnings that I realized I’d been trying to live up to someone else’s image of who I was supposed to be.”

“It was an observation, Zee, not an attack.” Liam turned his attention away from his surroundings, focusing on Zayn. “Being here, seeing the life you lead now, I get it. Really.” Liam looked behind them, back toward Rising Phoenix and Sanctuary, hidden behind the trees. “You found a way to have everything you wanted.”

“Not everything,” Zayn whispered to himself, so softly Liam wasn’t sure he didn’t imagine it.

"The other night, you said-” Liam began, then stopped, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

“I said a lot of things.” Zayn shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. He stiffened, the tension in his body furiously humming around them. “What do you want from me, Liam?” 

“I’m not sure I know anymore. I look at this place, at what you’ve built, and I wonder if I was wrong to come and dredge up memories that should have been left alone.” Zayn stiffened. _Turn around._ Liam silently beseeched the man in front of him. _Look at me._

“I could have kept you away.” 

His mum had said the same thing. Had it really only been a few days ago? It felt like another lifetime. “Why didn’t you?” 

“You weren’t the only one who had unanswered questions.” Zayn turned around, his eyes shadowed and wary. 

“There hasn’t been anyone else. ” Liam replied to Zayn’s earlier question, and saw the light come back to his eyes. “I’m not saying I didn’t date; I’d be a liar if I did. Not every relationship was for publicity’s sake - no matter how much press it garnered -but it wasn’t like what we had.” 

“I knew about the women you dated, those were always well publicized.” His words were coupled with a sardonic laugh. “But you’re bisexual and in the closet. The press wouldn’t have known about any others.” 

“There weren’t any others. I met a few men, but none of them measured up.” Liam cocked his head, the corner of his mouth twisting into a grimace. “They weren’t you.” 

Rubbing his eyes, Zayn sighed. “What are we doing, Liam?” 

“We’re talking.” 

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse. You know that’s not what I meant.” Zayn kicked away a stray branch on the ground. “What’s the point?”

“I suppose the answer to that would depend on what you’d hoped would happen when you planned to come to London eight years ago, and if you still felt the same way.” 

“Of course I feel the same way, but I don’t see a future in it.” Zayn balled his fists and folded his arms protectively across his chest. “You live in London. I live here. You’re about to release an album, go on tour.”

“Why does that have to be a problem?” Liam felt a surge of adrenaline at Zayn’s admission, increasingly determined to prove him wrong.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” Zayn scoffed. “There’s no way you’ve forgotten what a nightmare it was before- and we were in the same fucking band!”

“Things are different now.” Liam insisted. 

“But-”

“No. No buts. Look, Zee. I’ve got two days left before I have to leave. I’m done dancing around this shite.” He tugged Zayn’s hand free, twining their fingers together and drawing him closer. He cupped his cheek with the other hand. “I love you. I fell in love with you almost fifteen years ago when I was a confused teenager trying to figure out who I was. I loved you when I had no idea where you were or why you left, and I’ll probably love you for the rest of my life. It is what it is.”

“You don’t even know me anymore. I’m not the same person.” Zayn closed his eyes, but not before Liam saw the flicker of resignation in them. “You’re in love with a ghost.” 

“No. I’m in love with a man.” Liam rested his hand over Zayn’s heart. “A man who has struggled with demons I can’t begin to understand. Who fought his way back to health and sanity, and built a new life. Who rose from the ashes, like the phoenix he named his home after.” Liam took a stuttering breath. “You have more strength and resilience than anyone I know.”

“No I don’t. I didn’t have the strength to fight for what I wanted.” Zayn said, opening his eyes to meet Liam’s steady gaze. His thick lashes were wet with unshed tears. Liam ached at the pain he saw. 

“Then fight for it now.” Liam demanded. “What do you want?” 

“I don’t-”

Don’t say it. You _do_ know.” Liam cut him off. “You knew eight years ago, and you know now. “Say it, Zayn.” Liam implored. 

“I still love you, too! Is that what you want to hear?” Zayn broke, the tears spilling over. “Fine. I said it. Are you happy now?”

“Inexplicably.” Liam leaned closer, the breath of his word teasing across Zayn’s lips as he captured them with his own.

Liam shivered when Zayn’s arms slipped around his waist, felt the way he leaned into him, his body trembling. He teased his tongue along the crease in Zayn’s lips. They parted underneath the gentle onslaught, a wordless sigh passing between them. Liam wrapped his arms around Zayn’s shoulders and held him closer, offering his heart in the kiss, and prayed it would be enough. 

The breeze picked up, the horses stomped their hooves, and a deer walked through the field behind them. They noticed none of it, too lost in each to allow the world to intrude.

Zayn was the first to break the kiss, resting his head against Liam’s chest. Liam pressed his face into Zayn’s neck, felt the rush of his pulse, the hitch in his breathing. 

“I love you.” He whispered, awestruck at having been given the chance to say it once again, to have it returned. 

“I know, _jaan_. We need to go back.” Zayn murmured, making no move to pull away. 

“God I missed that word.” Liam rubbed his cheek against the scruff on Zayn’s jaw, teasing a kiss behind his ear. “Do we have to go?” 

Zayn chuckled and flinched. “That tickles.” He leaned back, and smiled up at Liam. “We do. The horses are restless and I’m hungry. Besides, it’s warmer at the cottage than it is in the middle of a field in November.” 

Liam hugged him tighter. “Out here, I have an excuse to wrap myself around you.” 

“At the cottage, you don’t need an excuse,” Zayn offered. He stepped back and took Liam’s hand. “C’mon. Let’s get these boys back and go home.” 

Liam acquiesced and allowed Zayn to lead the way back to the horses. They gathered the reins, and Liam watched while Zayn mounted and settled in the saddle. 

“Are you coming?” Zayn tilted his head, then turned to look over his shoulder. “What are you staring at?”

“You’re kind of beautiful, you know?” Shaking his head, Liam pulled himself astride Travesty, gently talking to him while he settled back into the feel of Liam on his back. Liam patted him on the neck. "There’s a good boy. Extra treats when we get back.” He looked up at Zayn who was watching him with a bemused smile. “What?” 

“Might as well spoil him. He’s as good as yours, anyway,” Zayn said. He clicked at Cool, turning him toward the hill. The horse pranced in anticipation, already pulling on the reins. “Race you back!” Zayn called out, his words drifting back toward Liam as he let the horse have his head and took off. 

“You cheated!” Liam yelled back, urging Travesty to follow. He leaned low over the horse’s neck, whopping when they passed the other horse and rider, slowing only when the treeline loomed in front of them. He turned toward the path between the fields, checked on Zayn, and let Travesty go again. The wind whistled around his ears, his eyes watering from the cold. He blinked to clear them, urging the horse to go faster. Reaching the last field, he slowed and brought Travesty around. The horse whinnied, nodding his head when Cool answered him. Liam waited for Zayn to pull abreast, nudging Travesty back into motion. They held the horses to a walk the remainder of the trip back to the inn. 

“Being able to ride like this might be my second favorite thing about Rising Phoenix.” Liam said, drinking in the sight of the man next to him. Zayn sat tall in the saddle, his body moving easily along with Cool’s gait, his free hand resting casually on his thigh. 

“What’s your favorite thing?” Zayn glanced over and Liam felt the warmth of his gaze wash over him. They entered the stableyard and the horses came to a halt in front of the open barn doors. 

Liam smiled softly. “You.”

A stain of pink tinged Zayn’s cheeks, obviously not from the cold, and he ducked his head. Humming to himself, Liam dismounted and loosened Travesty’s cinch. As he tended the horse, he watched Zayn caring for Cool. Every time their eyes connected, the blush deepened, Zayn’s unsteady hands the only other visible sign of the effect Liam was having on him. Mindful of their surroundings, Liam refrained from commenting, but catalogued it for later. Zayn off kilter was a novel experience, when he’d always been the more unflappable of the two of them. He planned to keep him that way for the foreseeable future.

Zayn started rambling the minute they left the stables. He talked about the weather, Quinn, the horses - a steady stream of nervous chatter that only grew more random as they walked. Liam bit his lip to keep from chuckling. They walked past the back of the inn and Liam slowed, allowing Zayn to move a few steps ahead, then grabbed his arm and pulled him into the garden. The gate closed behind them with a loud clink of the weighted chain, the sound echoing around them in the shadowy silence. Liam stepped into Zayn’s bubble, crowding him back against the fence. 

“What are we-” 

“Shhh.” Liam placed a finger over Zayn’s lips, ducking his head to follow it with a searching kiss. . “Stop talking.” 

“Li! Someone might see!” Zayn hissed, even as his arms crept around Liam’s neck. 

“Doubtful. The sun hasn’t warmed the garden up enough for a stroll.” 

Zayn peered over Liam’s shoulder, then looked back at Liam. 

“See? It’s empty.” Liam stared down at Zayn and traced the contours of his lips with his finger before He breathed him in, watched the flick of his tongue as Zayn moistened his lips to speak. 

“We’re less than fifty metres from home.” 

“It’s too far and I needed to kiss you now.” Liam replied. 

Zayn sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. Liam trailed kisses along Zayn’s jaw, nipping his bottom lip, before slotting their mouths together. Zayn twisted his fingers in Liam’s collar to pull him closer. Liam leaned into the kiss, taking all that Zayn offered with his easy acquiescence. Liam wanted Zayn. Wanted this. Wanted so much, more than he felt even he could comprehend. He deepened the kiss, his teeth gently pulling on Zayn’s lower lip, his breath escaping in an exhale when Zayn opened and drew Liam’s tongue into his mouth. They slanted their heads, mouths slotted together like matching puzzle pieces, tongues twining around each other as they each leaned in for more. Slowly, with tantalizing caresses, their lips sought then retreated. They broke apart, the kiss leaving them both breathless. Liam nudged Zayn’s nose with his, pulling away to his forehead against Zayn’s. Zayn slowly opened his eyes and Liam drowned in the love radiating from the amber depths. 

“Babe?” Zayn slid his hands down Liam’s arms until he could tangle their fingers together. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can you finish kissing me at home? I’m starving.” 

“Yeah,” Liam replied, with a chuckle, bringing up their hands to brush a kiss across Zayn’s knuckles. “C’mon. We need to let Quinn out anyway.” 

He stepped back, reluctantly letting go of Zayn to open the gate. He held it wide while Zayn ducked under his arm to exit, trailing his fingers across Liam’s abdomen as he did. Liam’s muscles tightened in reaction and he flinched away. 

“Still ticklish, I see.” Zayn shot a smirk back over his shoulder. “Good to know there’s still a chink in Batman’s armour.” 

“That was so not cool.” Liam coughed, pausing to compose himself, before catching up to Zayn on the path. “I will get you back.” 

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Depends on which one you’re more receptive to, love.” And oh, Liam had forgotten how much he missed this, the banter. When they weren’t at odds due to circumstances beyond their control, they’d excelled at pushing all the right buttons.

“I’ll get back to you on that- after I eat.” Zayn opened the door to Quinn’s welcoming barks, standing back to let Liam enter first. Quinn danced around their legs, turning to dart toward the back door once he was sure he had their attention. Liam followed to let him out, jumping when Zayn patted his ass as he passed by. Shocked by the unexpected intimacy, he whirled around, catching the admiring once over Zayn gave him.

“My eyes are up here,” Liam teased, walking backward and praying he didn’t trip and tumble arse over kettle. 

“Yes, but the rest of you is equally as attractive, which, honestly, how is that even fair?” Zayn muttered, turning into the kitchen and opening the fridge. 

“So says the man who makes Greek statues weep with envy,” Liam retorted. He let Quinn out, leaving the door ajar so he could come back in whenever he wanted. Wandering back over to the kitchen, he leaned on the island and watched Zayn flit around the kitchen. It impressed him, as always, at how the man could make the most mundane tasks appear graceful and poetic. 

Empty-handed, Zayn closed the fridge and opened the pantry cupboard, frowning at the contents, prompting Liam to ask, “What are you looking for?” 

“I don’t want eggs.” 

“So don’t make eggs.” Liam shrugged. “What do you want?” 

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be staring aimlessly into a cupboard full of food, Lee-yum.” Zayn closed the door with a sigh, leaning back on the countertop. “Any suggestions?” 

“Doesn’t matter.”

Liam plucked a banana out of the bowl of fruit sitting next to his elbow. He absentmindedly peeled it and took a bite. Zayn’s eyes widened, colour returning to fill his cheeks. 

“Can you- maybe not do that?” 

“Eat a piece of fruit?”Liam took another bite. “Now you’re being weird.”

“Yeah, well, it’s positively obscene.” Zayn looked away, reopening the cupboard. “Maybe pancakes. You like pancakes, right?” 

“Zee-” 

“I might have some blueberries I could throw in them. Oh, or chocolate chips. That’d be good. Like dessert and breakfast in one.”

“Zayn-” 

“Then again we could ea- uhm , have the muffins. They’re like pancakes, and already cooked.” Zayn returned to the fridge. “Or maybe, just skip breakfast and have lunch.”

“Zayn!” 

“Yeah?” “Zayn closed the fridge again, intently studying the few magnets stuck to its surface.

“You’re babbling. And as lovely as the vineyard logo is, it’s not that fascinating.” Liam settled onto a stool, immensely amused by Zayn’s discomfort. “I’m done eating the banana. You can stop using the mental image to feed your oral fixation fantasy and turn around now.”

Zayn groaned, banging his head against the fridge door. 

“You’re such a dick.” 

“Excuse me? Did you say suck a dick? The accent’s a little muddy, and I’m not sure I-”

Zayn flew around the island and grabbed the front of Liam’s shirt, Jerking him forward and kissing him hard and quick. “Just- shut up. Do not talk about dicks, do not talk about sucking.” Just- shut- up.” He punctuated each word with another kiss. 

Liam laughed and captured Zayn’s free hand and twisted it behind his back in a tender hold to calm him down. He leaned back in, smiling against Zayn’s mouth. “I love you. You’re beautiful, infuriating, and you own my heart.” Liam held him close, his mouth plundering Zayn’s in a delicate assault designed to placate his annoyance. Zayn became pliant, melting into him, opening up to the gentle coercion. Liam lifted his head to grin at the man in his arms. “Better now?” 

Zayn wordlessly nodded. 

“Good. Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, what would you like to eat? I saw spinach in the fridge. I can make _aloo palak_.”

“You can make _aloo_?” Zayn raised an incredulous eyebrow “Exactly where did you learn to make _aloo_?” 

“YouTube, of course.” Liam replied, waving off Zayn’s scoffing laugh at the answer. “Sit. I’ll cook it and you can critique- on one condition. If I nail it, you have to tell your mum I cooked for you.” 

Zayn did as Liam instructed, settling on one of the stools at the island. “Why do I have to tell my mum? I can just as easily tell yours.” 

“True. But if you’re willing to praise my cooking to your mum then I know I did it right.” Liam pulled out the frying pan and set it on the stove. “Besides, then your mum will tell my mum, and I get double mum praise, which feeds my need for validation.” 

“How very self-aware of you,” Zayn said dryly. 

Liam ignored Zayn’s sarcasm and tucked a dish towel into the pocket on his jeans. Pulling out the vegetables he needed, he set to work. He hummed as he peeled and chopped the potatoes, picking through the spinach, and preparing the frying pan. He looked up to catch Zayn’s studious observation. 

“What?” He asked, dumping a pile of chopped garlic in the hot frying pan.

“Nothing. You’re doing fine.” Zayn answered. “The potatoes are a little on the smallish side.” 

“They cook faster this way. Spices?” Liam opened the cabinet next to the refrigerator. 

“Are you going to use chilis? There’s a jar-”

Liam waved the jar over his head. “Found it. Do you have _masala_ or cumin?” Liam closed the cabinet door and opened the next one, rifling through the jars of spices. 

“Yes, but-” Zayn walked over and pointed to a nondescript jar of mixed spices. “There. Mum makes her own _masala_. I know what it is, so it isn’t labeled.” 

“Thanks, babe.”

Liam picked up the jar Zayn pointed to. He pressed a kiss to Zayn’s cheek and returned to cooking. He heard the clink of dishware, then the rattle of silverware being pulled from a drawer. He tried not to focus overmuch on the domesticity of them being in the kitchen together, determined to get the dish right. 

“I have _naan_. The Wegmans in Harrisburg carries a good one.” Zayn carried the package of bread to the table and laid out the place settings. Calling Quinn back inside, he closed the door and returned to sit at the island. 

“Now to let those cook through, about 5 minutes or so.” Liam said, pouring a bit of water in the pan with the potatoes and placing the lid on it. “Then wilt the spinach, and tada! It's done!”

Zayn leaned over to sniff the steam from the pan. “Smells right.” 

Liam finished washing his hands. “It tastes right, too.” 

“So- YouTube?” 

“I got bored making all the same things I’d always eaten growing up and wanted to learn something different. I always loved your mum’s cooking, but hadn’t found anything close to it near my flat.” Liam stirred the potatoes and replaced the lid. “I googled the recipes I remembered, found some videos, and taught myself some of the simpler dishes.” 

“Do you cook a lot, then?” 

The way Zayn was staring at him, Liam felt sure there was more to the question that it appeared on the surface, but didn’t know what. “Yeah, a fair bit, when I’m home. Traveling all the time means a lot of meals out, and to be honest, when I’m home I prefer to just be home, you know?”

“No clue. I work from home. If I want a meal out, I walk across the lawn to the inn.” 

“Smartass.” 

Zayn laughed. “It’s true, though.”

“I’ll give you this, the kitchen does a bang-up job. Nice mix of homey dishes with an upscale twist.” Liam lifted the lid and stepped back to allow the steam to escape. He broke a piece of potato with a fork, and satisfied it was done enough, he started adding the spinach. “Your staff is all quite nice, too.” 

This lot is, yeah. There’ve been a couple issues, but I think we’re solid now.” Zayn slid the plates closer for Liam to dish up the _aloo_. “ Even the ones that were fans are respectful of my privacy. I think it’s because to them I’m just Zayn, the vineyard owner, not Zayn Malik the popstar.” 

“Do you ever worry-”

“That they’ll go to the press about me and my life? Not really. Not anymore. What story are they going to sell? ‘Zayn Malik talks crop yields’.” Zayn laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure the tabloids aren’t interested.” 

Zayn took the plate Liam offered him, waiting until Liam joined him at the island before tasting a forkful. Liam watched anxiously, waiting for Zayn’s pronouncement. He took a second bite, pulling off a piece of _naan_ to push it on the fork. 

“Well?” Liam picked up his own fork, hand hovering over his plate. 

“You win. I’ll tell Mum you’re allowed in her kitchen.”

Liam smiled proudly and dug in, enjoying being able to share one of his favourite dishes with the man who first introduced him to them. He couldn’t stop himself from asking the question plucking at him, though. “So your work with the vineyard might not be hot headline fodder but that’s not the sum total of your life, right?”

“Quinn’s adorable, but probably not much interest in him, either.” 

“Zayn-” Liam bit back an exasperated sigh. 

“Why don’t you just come out and ask what you really want to know instead of beating around the bush? Don’t be so passive-agressive,” Zayn teased, tossing Liam’s earlier words back at him. Zayn took another bite, then set down his fork. “You want to know if I’m dating. Do you really think I’d be talking about love with you if there was someone else?”

“You have to admit, given our past, we all had pretty skewed ideas of what relationships looked like.” Liam pushed a piece of potato around his plate, avoiding the accusation in Zayn’s eyes. “What the public saw and the reality were two very different things.” 

“Fair, but no, there’s no one else. There hasn’t been in a while, and certainly no one I’d have bothered bringing here, when there was.” He shrugged, scooping up the last of his food in a piece of _naan_. “Most women aren’t interested in crop yields, either.” 

“You never came out.” Liam may have meant it as a statement, but the question was implied. 

“There was no reason to. I wasn’t dating anyone that made it necessary, and doing so could have made your life difficult.” Zayn wiped his mouth and walked over to the refrigerator to fill two glasses with water. He set one down in front of Liam, then took his seat again. “I’d already hurt you enough, I wasn’t going to force you out of the closet too.” 

Liam pushed his empty plate away and reached for Zayn’s hands. “Do you think it would have?”

“I don’t know, but I wasn’t willing to risk it.” Zayn stared at their joined hands. “That would have been a shite thing to do, and for what purpose? To garner a bit of press? The last thing I wanted was the attention.” 

“Then why did you ask me about it?”

“My attorney is worried it’s Simon’s ace in the hole. He doesn’t know specifically about you, but he knows about my sexuality. He’s afraid Simon is unhinged enough to try to use it as blackmail to get me to sign over the royalties.

“Are you fucking serious?” Zayn nodded, and Liam exploded. “Fuck Simon!” he shoved away from the table to prowl across the room in an effort to gain control over his anger. “I’m so fucking tired of everything in our lives being determined by what Simon Cowell might do in retaliation. You want to come out? Do it. Simon can fucking rot!” 

“Do _you_ want to?” 

Zayn’s words were measured, hesitant, as if weighted with the implications it would have. Liam turned to watch him clear the table. He put the dishes in the sink and stared out the window, his shoulders hunched as he pulled in on himself. 

“Zee-” 

Zayn turned and Liam saw the fear in his eyes. Liam inhaled deeply and walked over to pull Zayn into his arms. 

“Not if you don’t. I’m not in the same position we were ten, fifteen years ago. The lads and me, we make the rules now.” 

“I don’t care if the world knows I’m not straight. Everyone important in my life already does.” Zayn looked up at Liam. “I just- I don’t want the relentless scrutiny on my life.”

Liam studied his face, unsure what he was saying. “Why would there be?” 

“Li, If we’re together, and the public finds out about it, how peaceful do you think Rising Phoenix will remain when the press comes calling to find out what Liam Payne’s boyfriend is up to while he’s on tour? I won’t have that chaos here, and I can’t give up my privacy.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” Liam stepped back. “Look-” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “C’mere.” He led Zayn to the sofa and pulled him down next to him. He turned to face him, taking his hands again. “This doesn’t have to ruin your life. I’ve seen it work. Lou and Haz, they managed to keep their relationship private for how many years? Even with all the other shit they had going on in their public lives, they’ve done it and that was with people actively trying to fuck it up. They saw each other on tour, took vacations together- all the typical normal stuff.” He paused, catching his breath, his words emphatic when he spoke again. “We can have that, Zee. I want that for us. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, and it’ll take a lot of effort on our part, but damn! Don’t you think we deserve to be happy after all this time?”

Yeah.” Zayn curled his hand around Liam’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “Yeah, we do.” He tilted his head, slotting his lips against Liam’s, each brush of their lips a promise for the future they’d once dreamed of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	7. Time Has Brought Your Heart To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _A Thousand Years_ by Christina Perri

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

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“If I’m staying here with you, I really should go gather the rest of my stuff from my room.” Liam glanced down at Zayn. who lay next to him, his head resting over Liam’s heart. They’d stretched out on the sofa hours ago, both eventually dozing off, exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the last few days. 

“You should have just brought it all down the other day.” Zayn craned his head back to look up at Liam. “I don’t know why you didn’t.” 

Well, that would have been a little presumptuous, don’t you think?” Liam asked, smoothing the hair back from Zayn’s forehead. “We’d seen each other - what twice? - since I’d arrived, and the first time had ended in a huge disagreement and my storming back to my room. Not exactly the most encouraging sign that things might be okay, you know? Not to mention what happened once we did start talking.”

Zayn settled his head back down, tightening his arm around Liam’s waist. “Maybe. You’ve always been pretty good at getting what you set your mind to, though.” 

“Yeah, when it’s a fixed goal,” Liam scoffed. “You were the unknown variable in this equation, and we weren’t exactly on the same page.” 

“Actually- we kind of were.” Zayn admitted. “Before I called you about caring for Quinn, I had a phone session with my therapist to talk things through. If nothing else, I knew we needed to clear the air if we stood half a chance of being friends- much less anything more.” 

“Did you want more, even then? Before we’d really talked?” 

“I don’t think I’d thought that far ahead. Even when Dr. Banning brought up the possibility, I dismissed the idea. I wasn’t sure where you stood on everything. All I had to hold onto was the fact that you’d gone through the trouble of finding me, and why would you if I didn’t matter in your life anymore? Hope makes it very hard to manage your expectations.” 

“That it does,” Liam said softly, lips grazing Zayn’s temple. Then, with a groan, he shifted his body out from under the comfortable weight of Zayn draped across him. “Alright, I’m going before it gets too late. Is it okay to bring the rental car over, too?”

“Yeah, sure. You can park it out front on the driveway.” Zayn stood and stretched. “I’ll walk with you. I don’t feel like cooking. While you gather your bags, I’ll sneak into the kitchen and sweet talk Lissie into packing up dinner for us.” 

“How positively lord of the manor of you,” Liam teased. 

Zayn pushed him out the front door with a laugh. “I’ll have you know, I rarely avail myself of the amenities of the inn.” He slid an arm around Liam’s waist, tucking himself into his side, and smiling up at Liam when he draped his arm over Zayn’s shoulders. “This is just convenient, given the fact that it’s already pushing seven o’clock.” 

“Fair.” 

They meandered slowly to the inn, taking advantage of the early onset of night to stay draped around each other on their way across the dimly lit side yard. By unspoken agreement, they put some distance between them when they neared the main entrance of the inn, the cheery lights illuminating their approach . They parted ways at the lift, Liam lightly brushing his hand against Zayn’s when he entered the carriage. “I’ll meet you here in about ten minutes, okay? I don’t have much to pack.” 

“Make it fifteen, in case the dining room is busy. Just leave your key on the dresser. I’ll let Lauren know to clear the room off the books.” 

The door closed, and Liam sank back against the wall, still dazed by the way the day had turned out, after waking that morning feeling lost and uncertain. He wanted to shout from the rooftops, settling instead for sending a quick text to his mum. 

Mum  
  
We’ve talked. We’re working it out. I’m sorry I was a tool the other day. 

Liam figured she’d see the message when she woke in the morning, so he was surprised to see the dots for a response being typed appear under his message. 

Mum  
  
**Mum:** I suspected as much when I hadn’t heard from you.

Liam snorted. Of course she had. 

Mum  
  
**Mum:** Just be happy, darling. It’s all I ever wanted for either of you. Give Zayn my love. I’ll see you soon.  
  
Love you, Mum.  
  
**Mum:** Love you, too, angel.

Liam left the lift and walked to his room, letting himself in. He dropped the key on the dresser and focused on quickly pulling his things together. He checked all the drawers and the bathroom, ensuring he’d left nothing behind. Satisfied he had it all, he left the room and returned downstairs. 

Reaching the main floor, he exited the lift again and scanned the hall, seeing no sign of Zayn. He walked toward the lobby, pulling up short at the sound of a sharp whistle behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Zayn striding toward him, two totes in his hand. 

“Still like _crème brûlée_?” He asked when he reached where Liam waited.

“Random, but yes, it’s my favorite. Why?” 

“Because that was one of the desert selections. I was hoping it still was, cause I grabbed an extra one.” Zayn squeezed his hand and dropped a quick peck on Liam’s cheek. “Ready?”

“I- uh, yeah.”Liam hefted his duffle bag onto his shoulder. “I can’t believe you remembered that.” 

“Well, more like I remembered one particular time…” Zayn’s voice trailed off, a blush suffusing his face. 

Liam’s eyes widened in sudden recollection. “ Oh,” he coughed, certain he was ten shades brighter than Zayn. “I- hmm.” 

“Right.” Zayn smirked, his eyes sparkling at Liam’s obvious discomfort. “So… hungry?” 

Zayn bumped Liam with his shoulder and headed toward the entrance. Liam watched him walk away, groaning at the rush of heat that burned him to the core. _Fuck!_ That memory was going to haunt him for the rest of the night. He tried to shove it out of his mind, but the image of Zayn sprawled naked on a rumpled hotel room bed was too enticing to dismiss that easily. He tugged the fabric on his jeans in an attempt to alleviate the sudden pressure. He was in hell. Absolute hell. Zayn was leading him straight to the heart of the flames, and he was helpless to do anything but follow him into the fire. 

The short drive around the inn to the cottage was made in silence, the tension between them thick and tangible. Liam drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, unable to focus on anything other than the significance of what Zayn had implied in the hallway. Were they going to- was that even a possibility? Not that he hadn’t considered it, but certainly in the abstract, not with any true expectation of it being reality. Did he even- _Oh for fuck’s sake! How was that even a question? Of course he did!_

He pulled the car to a stop, twisting his hands around the steering wheel, fighting the impulse to wipe his sweating palms on his jeans. Before he could form a coherent thought, Zayn had the door open, one foot out of the car, the food totes in his hand. 

“I didn’t realize how late it is. Quinn’s going to be trying to gnaw the cupboard door open.”” 

“But-” The passenger door closed, the question left unspoken. 

Liam laid his forehead against the steering wheel, frustration burning through him. Slow, deep breath in - two, three, four, five. Slow exhale- two, three, four, five. Again. The racing of his heart slowed and he took one more measured breath. Shoving himself out of the car, he pulled his bag from the back, taking his time to walk into the house. He closed the door, heard Zayn talking to Quinn, the sound of kibble clattering into the bowl. Zayn walked back into the kitchen. 

“Zayn-” 

“Yeah?” Zayn walked to the sink, his focus on the dog trailing behind him. “You hungry? Thought we were starving you?” He finished preparing the food and set the bowl on the floor. “There you go, pal.”

“Zee- about what you said…” Zayn looked up expectantly, dense velvet lashes sweeping up to frame the warm amber eyes. Mesmerized, Liam stuttered, whatever he’d meant to say lost under the weight of Zayn's magnetic gaze. _How do you ask someone you once shared every part of your life with, if they were implying they wanted to have sex? Was this really a thing they needed to talk about?_

“Yes, and yes.” 

Liam shook his head, dragging himself out of the spiraling abyss of anxiety that consumed him. Zayn stood in front of him, a smile teasing the corner of his lips. 

“What?” 

"The answer to your questions. Yes, and yes.” 

“How did you-” Liam’s brow furrowed, even as heat crept up his neck. 

“Fifteen years on and you still talk to yourself out loud when you’re overthinking something.” 

“I- fuck.” Mortified, Liam dropped his bag, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. 

Zayn pried his hand away. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because I didn’t mean- shite.” 

“Liam?” Warily Liam met Zayn’s even gaze. “We’re grown men. We lived together, shared a bed. Once upon a time, we were engaged. Yes, I want to sleep with you. Yes we need to talk about it.” 

“Okay, uhm. Right. Of course.” 

Zayn leaned up and pulled him into a searing kiss, his body melding to Liam with promises Liam couldn’t wait to delve into. Zayn pulled away, ending the kiss way too soon, his fingers trailing down the buttons on Liam’s shirt. He looked up through lowered lashes, teeth worrying the corner of his lip. “Put your bag upstairs, _jaan_. Dinner’s getting cold.” 

Liam re-entered the kitchen to find Zayn hovering near the island, two glasses in his hand. “I was going to suggest a glass of wine, but-” Zayn hesitated, the question hanging in the air between them. 

Eyeing the glass, Liam weighed his options against his emotional state of mind. It was one glass. He was capable of limiting himself, and given the consuming tension between them, it might be what he needed to slow his thoughts down to a level where he could process them, instead of spewing random ass shit that left him feeling like a twelve year old caught having his first wank.

“I- yeah, sure. A glass of wine would be nice.” Liam took a seat and looked over his plate. “So, what’re we having?” 

Zayn swapped the water glasses for stemware, retrieving a bottle from the fridge before returning to the table. “Braised beef short ribs. I thought the Sauvignon would be a nice accompaniment.” He poured a small amount in Liam’s glass and handed it to him. “Here- give it a taste.” 

Liam accepted the glass and took a sip, allowing the wine to slide over his tongue to experience the full flavor, surprised at the lighter texture than he was used to. “It’s delicious. I’ve always thought Sauvignon tended to be on the heavy side, but this-” Liam finished the little bit left in his glass, "I like it.”

“You’ve probably drank California-produced Sauvignon. Wines produced on the East Coast, though made from the same grapes, tend to have a much different taste than those from California.” Zayn poured them each half a glass, recorking the wine and setting it aside. He took his seat, waving toward Liam’s wineglass. “For example, with the Sauvignon, it has the softer taste more commonly found in European wineries.” 

“How do you know all of this stuff?” Liam cut into the short ribs and took a bite, stifling a moan of appreciation at the way it practically melted in his mouth. “For that matter, how on earth did you end up owning a vineyard, especially a producing one?” 

“It was an accident,” Zayn replied, and Liam eyed him suspiciously. 

“Explain to me how you ‘ _accidentally_ ’ buy a vineyard?” 

Zany laughed. “It’s not nearly as complicated as you’re imagining. I wanted some place off the beaten path. I’d visited a friend’s family’s farm up in Pennsylvania a few times, and I was always able to relax when I was there. It seemed like the perfect solution." Zayn took a bite of his own dinner. “As usual, Lissie downplayed dinner, wow.” He waved away the comment, continuing his earlier train of thought. “When the real estate agent sent me the listing for this property, there was nothing in the description about the vineyard. I’d been looking for something with ten or twenty acres, for privacy’s sake, and room to have a stable and somewhere to ride.” 

“Didn’t you say Rising Phoenix is fifty acres? How did you get from ten to fifty? That’s a pretty substantial jump.” Liam took another sip of the wine, staring at Zayn over the rim of the glass. 

“The property had been on the market for a while, and the price was really good - actually cheaper than smaller farms in the area.” Zayn looked out the back door, tilting his head, as if recollecting his thoughts from back then. He returned his focus back to Liam. “Des had always told us that owning land was the safest investment for our money. So I figured what the hell, and bought it, sight unseen.” 

“That could have been a disaster,” Liam chuckled. “Was it even inhabitable?” 

“Oh yeah. Outdated, but livable.” Zayn picked up his own glass, and Liam watched as he swirled the deep ruby liquid, before taking a sip. He felt a surge of heat at the pink flick of Zayn’s tongue on his lips and quickly looked away. “Once I’d finished dicking around with renovating the house, I went looking for another project to keep me busy. By that time, I’d become familiar with the area, and knew about the robust wine community. The vineyard had been left fallow for a couple decades, but all of the vine frames were still in usable condition.” Zayn tilted his glass, examining the contents with a look of pride on his face. “I figured I’d give growing grapes a try, maybe play around with making my own wines, simply for the novelty of it.” 

“So wait, you’re saying you ended up making wine for funsies?” Liam stared at him, incredulous. “You’re shitting me, right now, aren’t you?” 

Zayn smiled at Liam, his expression smug. “Nope, dead ass. Mum was certain I’d gone round the bend. But, eh, it worked out. One variety turned into two, and it was kind of cool. Different. I’d actually created something, you know?” Zayn pushed his empty plate away, settling back in his chair, glass in hand. “So I thought, maybe we could do a bit more, I planted some different grapes to see what other varietals we could create. Next thing I knew, I owned an actual vineyard and a proper winery.” He lifted his glass in Liam’s direction, finishing off his wine with a flourish. “We’re not a huge operation, and our sales are only through mail order and the tasting room. I’m not looking to be the next Berringer Farms. In a good year, we might produce thirty thousand bottles. I know it sounds like a lot, but it’s really not.”

“You do realize that story is almost as ridiculously fantastical as how we became the boy band that took over the world, right?” Liam quirked his eyebrow, shaking his head. “Popstar to award-winning vintner. They make Hallmark movies about this shite, Zee.” 

“Award-winning may be taking it a step too far.” Zayn chuckled. “They were state competitions, not The International Sommeliers Choice. I didn’t even want to enter them. Richard, my vigneron, insisted. He’s the face of the vineyard to the general public. To be honest, he does the bulk of the work, I mostly provide the financial means to do it and get in his way a lot.” 

“What about-” Zayn’s phone rang, interrupting Liam’s question. 

“Hold that thought, babe,” Zayn checked the display, “It’s Richard, give me a minute.” Tapping the screen, he answered the call. “Hey, Richard.” Zayn paused, and Liam heard the low hum of the other man on the opposite end of the call. “No, you’re not interrupting, we just finished dinner. The fermentation locks? I’d need to check the order. Hold on.” Zayn muted the call and looked up apologetically. “This’ll only take a few minutes.” 

“Last time you said that, you had to go to New York,” Liam teased, standing to clear the table. “Go. I’ll clean everything up and take Quinn out.” 

“You’re a patient man, Liam Payne.” Zayn pushed away from the table, pausing to brush a soft kiss across Liam’s lips. “Be right back.”

Liam followed him with his eyes, admiring the lithe grace of his walk, remembering the hidden strength in his wiry frame. Unbidden, the memory of being held captive by those narrow hips consumed him, the image vivid and technicolor, as if it had been only yesterday, not years ago. He scrubbed his hand over his face. _Fuck! Pull it together, Payne!_ He gathered up the dishes and made short work of cleaning up the kitchen, wiping down the countertops and appliances until they sparkled.

Calling Quinn, he opened the back door, laughing when the dog tumbled down the stairs. “You’re gonna kill yourself, you uncoordinated little shite. My God, you’re a bigger hazard to yourself than Hazza is.” The dog scrabbled back to his feet and shook it off, darting outside to dash around the yard, the motion lights coming on at the sudden activity. The temperature had taken a significant drop with the setting of the sun, and he shivered at the unexpected chill. Quinn returned to the porch and plopped down next to him. “Nah, pal, it’s too cold tonight. C’mon, let's go back inside.” 

He closed and locked the door, returning to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. As it brewed, he stared out the window over the sink, contemplating the events of the last forty-eight hours. The familiar scent of sandalwood flooded his senses, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Zayn murmured. 

“You.” Liam turned, his fingers seeking out Zayn’s hips and tugging him closer to settle in between his thighs. “Us.” 

Zayn arched into him, pressing a kiss to the birthmark on his neck. Liam growled low in his throat, leaning his head back to allow Zayn better access. Liam gasped at the sharp drag of Zayn’s teeth on his skin, instinctually rolling his hips into the heavy press of Zayn’s erection. Calloused fingers parted the collar of his shirt, a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses branding his collarbone. Liam’s teeth worried his bottom lip, the white-hot pain slowing his descent into delirium.

“Zee- babe-” Liam turned his head, nuzzling into Zayn’s neck to slow the delicious torture. His chest heaved, breath panting. “I- fuck-yeah-” Liam splayed his hand across Zayn’s back, their bodies pressed flush from chest to thigh. Zayn twisted the buttons free on Liam’s shirt, tugging the hem from his jeans, and groaning in protest when the t-shirt underneath was revealed. 

“Why do you have so many fucking layers on?” Zayn groused, even as he pulled the hem of the t-shirt free as well, his fingers combing through the trail of hair under Liam’s navel. 

“Babe,” Liam’s stomach contracted at Zayn’s touch. He captured Zayn’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “We need to talk about this.” 

“Do we?” Zayn ground his erection into Liam’s. 

“I- fuck!” He pulled away, damn near whimpering at the look of pure sin in Zayn’s eyes. “Shouldn’t we?” He waved his hand between them. “This part? This was always easy for us, which - hey great, cause I mean, I really like this part. But I don’t want it to be like before, because that didn’t work, and I want, _I need_ , this to work between us.” 

Zayn dragged his hand through his hair. “I- shite. Yeah. You’re right. But do you have to be right from the other side of the room?” 

“I think so. When you touch me, I can’t get my head around things proper. I say stupid shite, forget to think. I don’t want to make those mistakes again. Not now.” 

Zayn took a step toward Liam and he shuffled back, putting the island between them. “C’mon, babe. Cut me some slack here,” Liam all but begged, his voice plaintive and pained.

‘“How about a compromise?” 

Compromise how?” Liam asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

“Come to bed.” 

“How is that a fucking compromise?” Caught off guard, Liam didn’t notice Zayn moving closer until it was too late. 

“Because if we’re going to talk about us, I want to be close to you.” Zayn wheedled, gazing up at Liam from under his eyelashes, his hand resting on Liam’s bicep. 

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me.” Liam caved, certain Zayn would eventually get what he wanted, despite Liam's best efforts. “Fine- but I’m sleeping in joggers.” Zayn slid his hand down Liam’s arm, tangling their fingers together, a sly smile curling his lip, even as he nodded in agreement. “So are you. Don’t think I don’t remember you prefer to sleep starkers.” 

Zayn’s face fell and he groaned in protest. “Any other demands before I sweep you off to my boudoir to discuss anything other than getting naked?” 

“Yeah,” Liam softened, squeezing Zayn’s hand before letting go and heading toward the stairs. “Turn the light out so we can go to bed.” 

Reaching the bedroom first, Liam grabbed a pair of joggers out of his bag and disappeared into the bathroom. He turned on the taps, water spilling into the basin. In a futile attempt to clear his head, he splashed the icy water on his face. Bracing his hands on the vanity, he stared at the trail of love bites decorating his collarbone. The mottled bruises disappeared under his t-shirt, the faint imprint of Zayn’s teeth sending a rush of heat straight to his dick. He carefully pushed against the skin, wincing at the mixed sensation of pain and pleasure. He met his eyes in the reflection, his own desire for Zayn evident.

“You are so fucked, my friend,” Liam whispered.

He heard Zayn moving around in the other room, accompanied by the sound of a door closing, followed by the slide of a dresser drawer. Peeling off his button down, he let it drop to the floor, then stripped out of his jeans and tugged on his joggers. As loose as they were, the outline of his hard-on was still disturbingly evident. All the mental images in the world of sad puppies couldn’t save him, not when he knew what waited on the other side of the door. Gathering up his discarded clothing, he strategically held them in front of him as he exited the bathroom, praying to every known and unknown deity that he could manage to get under the covers before Zayn saw him. 

The gods laughed. 

Zayn lounged in the middle of the bed, shirtless, his own joggers slung low enough to reveal the deep vees of his hips, emphasised even more by the prominent tenting of the grey fleece.

“As requested, joggers in bed.” Zayn smirked, not a single ounce of sincerity in his voice. 

“So absolutely fucked.” Liam whispered again. 

“Not if you stay over there, you’re not.” Zayn replied, and Liam groaned. Of fucking course he said it too loud. “Come to bed, Liam. I promise to stay as far away as you want me to.” Zayn laced his fingers together behind his head, the muscles on his abdomen pulling taut, the ink of his tattoos standing out in stark relief in the dim glow of the moon shining through the windows. Liam swallowed hard, certain he could already taste Zayn’s skin on his tongue. How the hell were they supposed to talk when he couldn’t form a coherent thought? 

Liam dropped his clothes on top of his bag and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“What does this mean to you? Like- if we do this- if we sleep together?” 

The bed shifted under him, and he felt Zayn move closer. “I’m not sure I understand- Liam, I can’t do this staring at your back. Please- turn around and look at me.” 

Liam blinked and glanced at the ceiling, the anxiety of confronting this head-on already churning his stomach.

“Li?”

“This. Us. What does it mean to you?” He turned and stared at Zayn, his gaze unwavering, a determined set to his jaw. “I’m not looking to get off and fly back to London with fond memories of fucking my ex-fiancé to pull out and reminisce over when I’m old and alone.” 

“Is that what you think I want?” He saw the confusion in Zayn’s eyes. “Have I given you that impression?” 

“No.” Liam shook his head, uncertainty stomping over the little confidence he had managed to retain. “I don’t know. I guess that’s why I’m asking. What is this to you?” 

Zayn knelt up and cradled Liam’s face in his hands. “I want you, Liam. Not just for tonight or the next two days. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, and fall asleep in your arms at night. I want to stand beside you in your victories, support you through the hard times.” Tenderly, Zayn brushed his lips over Liam’s. “ _Meri jaan_ ,” he whispered, “you are my love, my life.” 

Liam reached for Zayn’s hand, bringing it to his lips to brush a kiss across his open palm. Zayn shivered in response, his amber eyes darkening. tongue darting out to moisten his lips, before leaning up and claiming a kiss. Pressing his hands into Zayn’s thighs, Liam leveraged his body closer to delve into the recesses of his mouth. With each pass of his tongue, each brush of his lips, Liam offered his heart, asking for Zayn’s in return.

Pressing Zayn back against the bed, Liam took his time, savoring every inch of tattooed skin laid out in front of him. Flat caramel nipples pebbled in response to the stroke of Liam’s tongue. The muscles of his abdomen contracted under the soft passage of his lips. Zayn’s breathing became ragged, his fingers twisting in the curls at the base of Liam’s scalp, pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Liam, I –” His voice broke when Liam leaned back to tug the shirt over his head.

Zayn grabbed Liam’s arms, pulling him closer until their foreheads were pressed together. Tentative, almost as if he feared he would disappear from right in front of him, Zayn leaned in, his eyes searching Liam’s, then fluttering closed as their lips met again.

“Let me love you.” Liam murmured into the kiss.

Sliding his fingers into the waistband of Zayn’s joggers, Liam rolled them down, exposing the trimmed thatch of hair at the base of his shaft. Zayn’s gaze seared, passion burning hot in his eyes as he stared up at Liam. Everything inside Liam screamed _slow,slow_ , and Liam’s hands shook as he fought to maintain the tenuous grip he had on his self-control.

Liam brought his lips to the heart tattooed on Zayn’s hipbone, drawing the skin between his lips, sucking and biting until he tasted the metallic tang of the skin bruising. Zayn flinched, arching into Liam.

His mouth explored its way across Zayn’s quivering skin, marking the opposite hip the same way, before returning to the thatch of trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. His fingers traced the outline of his cock through the fleece of his joggers, stroking the length of each ridged vein. Placing his mouth over him, Liam breathed warm air through the fabric, the condensing moisture from his breath combining with pre-come already dampening it.

Wanting to feel the sleek length of Zayn under his lips, Liam tugged the joggers the rest of the way down, stripping them off Zayn's legs and tossing them aside. Sliding his hands back up Zayn’s calves, Liam pushed his knees apart. Starting at the pulse point behind his knee, Liam trailed moist kisses back to his groin, the thick length of Zayn’s cock jutting proudly away from his body.

Zayn leaned up on his elbows, his body vibrating in anticipation. One touch, one stroke, would have him falling apart. Liam knew it – and reveled in the knowledge. Liam shivered from the passionate fire in Zayn’s eyes, the familiar amber almost obsidian with the depth of his desire.

‘Liam . . . please . . .”

His plea remained unfinished, ending in a moan when the molten heat of Liam’s mouth surrounded him. On each stroke, Liam took him deeper into his throat, the wet slide of his lips on Zayn’s cock competing with the hum in his chest and Zayn’s impassioned moaning. Zayn’s skin was flushed, glistening with sweat. His hips pushed against the pressure of Liam’s hands pining him to the bed. Liam’s need to be buried deep inside Zayn when he came warred with the desire to devour everything he had to offer. The aching throb of his dick solved the dilemma for him.

Licking and sucking his way back to the flushed tip, Liam released him with a muted pop. Sliding his hands under Zayn’s ass, Liam pushed him further up the bed, then shoved his own joggers and pants out of the way, kicking them to the floor.

“Do you have-“

“Night table…” Zayn panted, “top drawer.” 

Liam reached over Zayn to rummage in the night table, sitting back with a condom and bottle of lube in his hand. Pushing Zayn’s knee up, he fumbled with the bottle, biting back a sigh of relief when he managed to open it without spilling the contents all over them and the bed. Taking his time, he slid his lubed finger around Zayn’s hole, slowly easing inside him, increasing the pressure when Zayn lifted his hips to open himself up further to Liam’s questing fingers. He thrust against Liam’s hand, fingers twisting in the bed sheets as he begged for more.

“Fuck! Liam . . . I- fuck, babe . . . Now, Liam! I need you-” Zayn stuttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Liam pulled his hand away, Zayn whimpering at the loss.

“Shhh, I got you, love,” Liam soothed, ripping open the condom.

Sheathing himself, Liam smeared lube along his length, then dragged his fingers across Zayn’s hole once more, before working them back in to ensure he’d been fully prepped. Liam curled them, stroking deep into Zayn, watching from under hooded lids when Zayn’s hips lifted off the bed, the muscles in his neck cording as he chased after his release.

“Please-” A throaty groan tore from Zayn’s chest. “Li-

“Yeah, babe… yeah-” 

Liam aligned himself at Zayn’s opening, entering him in one deep thrust that left them both quivering. Liam stilled when Zayn mewled at the sudden intrusion. Their eyes met, the golden flecks of Zayn’s almost mesmerizing in the dimly lit room. He breathed deeply, nostrils flaring, then nodded. Leaning over, He gathered Zayn against him and captured his mouth. With slow, angled thrusts, Liam stroked deep into him over and over, bringing Zayn's cock back to life with the continued friction.

“No one, Zee –,” Liam huffed, his words broken by exertion. “No one else, ever. Only you babe, only you.”

His lips danced across Zayn’s throat, the tang of salt teasing Liam's taste buds from the sheen of sweat on Zayn's skin. Zayn throbbed around him, the muscles clenching and drawing Liam in deeper, dragging him to the edge, then releasing him, only to pull him even closer. Zayn’s fingers dug into his back, the blunt nails raking thin furrows down his spine. Sliding his arm under Zayn, Liam grabbed his shoulder, pulling Zayn down hard against him with each thrust. He reached between them, grasping Zayn’s cock and stroking in rhythm with the movements of their bodies. His muscles tightened, his toes curling into the mattress with the approaching onslaught of his orgasm.

“Almost there, babe. . . can’t. . . not much longer.”

Zayn slid his hand around Liam’s neck, pulling his head down. He kissed his jaw, nipping at the skin underneath. Liam shifted his hips, dragging Zayn’s ass up onto his thighs, and he bit into his shoulder, moaning at the increased sensation. Liam felt Zayn tense under him, and looked down to see the reddened crown of Zayn’s cock sliding through his fist. The erotic image pushed him over, and his body convulsed, driving him deep inside Zayn while his orgasm ripped through him. A shudder rippled down Zayn’s body, their shouted cries mingling when he also found his release. Liam’s arms shook, his muscles going lax with the sudden lethargy that swept through him. They buckled and he let himself fall, landing on his elbows to hold his weight off of Zayn. Tears fell from both their eyes. Spent, they struggled to catch their breath in between whispered declarations of love, their fingers delicately tracing along sweat slick skin, lips merging in reverent kisses.

Heavy-limbed and exhausted, Liam rolled to the side. Pulling off the condom, he tied it off and dropped it into the bin next to the bed. He fell backward and reached out for Zayn. He slid closer, curling into Liam’s side and laying his head over Liam’s heart, fingers aimlessly tracing lazy circles on his chest. 

“We need a shower,” Zayn murmured. 

Liam struggled to keep his eyes open, a wide yawn popping his jaw. “My legs are jelly. If I try to stand up, I’m gonna end up on my arse.”

Zayn stifled a laugh, planting a kiss on Liam’s jaw. “I’ll get a hot flannel for now.”

The bed shifted, the sound of running water in the distance barely penetrating Liam’s subconscious. He dozed off, waking when he felt the wet drag of a cloth over his stomach. He flinched, giggling at the sensation. He cracked open one eye, offering a dopey smile to Zayn. “It’s good enough. C’mere.” Reaching out, he grabbed Zayn’s hand and pulled him back down on the bed. He rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Zayn and drawing him back to spoon around him. “Lay with me. We can shower in a bit.” 

A bit turned into a couple hours. Liam woke, his arms still wrapped around Zayn, desperately needing a wee. Carefully, he slid his arm out from under Zayn’s shoulder and crawled out of bed. The waning gibbous moon hung low outside the window, affording enough light for him to navigate his way around the unfamiliar room without turning on a light. He picked up the discarded flannel, dropping it over the edge of the tub when he entered the bathroom. 

Returning to the bedroom, he gathered their discarded clothing and dumped it on one of the armchairs. They could sort it out in the morning. His skin itched and he really wanted a shower. He glanced over at the bed to see Zayn stirring. 

“Li-” Zayn rolled over. 

Liam slipped back into bed, tangling himself around Zayn. “Right here, babe.” He pressed a kiss to Zayn’s forehead. “Was contemplating that shower.” 

“Mmhhmm- ‘m hungry.” 

“Now? It’s one o’clock in the morning.” 

“So? My stomach can’t tell time.” 

Laughing, Liam rolled to his back, his arm still tucked under Zayn. “Well it’s a little late to order pizza. Can you even get pizza delivery out here?” 

“No, of course not. We’re almost 20 minutes from any type of actual town.” Zayn slithered over top of Liam, straddling his hips and sitting up. He teased a finger down the middle of his chest, smirking when Liam squirmed under him. “However, we do have dessert, and I haven’t eaten Crème Brûlée in a very, very long time.” 

“I can’t believe you remember that. It was like- forever ago.” Liam groaned, his hands sliding up Zayn’s thighs to rest on his hips. “We ruined those sheets.” 

“They were washable.” Zayn shrugged. “In five years of touring, I think that was the worst mess we ever left in a hotel- and it was all confined to the bed.” 

I’m not 20 years old anymore. I’m a respectable adult now.” Liam looked down his nose at Zayn, the effect completely ruined by the smile curling his lip.

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that.” Zayn rolled off him and crawled out of bed. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get dessert.” 

Liam leaned up on his elbow, admiring the sight Zayn presented as he strolled over to the chair and picked up his joggers, tugging them on. “What about a shower?” 

Zayn disappeared down the stairs, his voice carrying back up through the quiet house. “Dessert first.” 

“Why can’t we have a shower first?” Liam called after him. 

When Zayn didn’t answer him, Liam collapsed back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Finding no answers there, he began talking out loud to himself. 

“It’s not like the shower was my idea, he brought it up first.” 

“Were you talking to me?” Zayn reappeared at the top of the stairs, the takeaway containers from the kitchen in his hand. 

“I thought you wanted to take a shower?” Liam turned to his side, head resting on his hand, and watched Zayn approach. 

Zayn set down the containers on the night table. “I do.” He lifted the covers, pulling them away and pushing Liam back down onto the bed. Kneeling next to him, Zayn leaned down and captured Liam’s mouth in a kiss that left his head swimming. Zayn straddled his hips and picked up one of the containers. 

“A shower. One. And if memory serves-” Zayn opened the container and plucked off a piece of the caramelized sugar glistening on the top of it, “the last time we shared a Crème Brûlée ,” he ate the sugar, noisily sucking the crystals off his fingers, “it necessitated a shower.” He dragged his finger through the thick custard and leaned forward to feed it to Liam, his eyes darkening when Liam bit down on his finger. Zayn scooped up some more. 

“Zee- Don’t-” Liam reached for his arm, but he was too slow. Zayn smeared it on Liam’s mouth, their tongues sliding together when he bent down to lick it off. Liam moaned into the kiss. Zayn slowly pulled away and with a wicked smile, tipping the rest of the dessert onto Liam’s abdomen. “I’m just trying to conserve water by having dessert first.”

“Fuck!” Liam flinched, his stomach contracting, his eyes widening when Zayn’s tongue dragged across his skin. Yeah. Dessert first was good, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	8. All My Fragile Strength Is Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _Gravity_ by Sara Bareilles

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

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“Does it always rain this much?” Liam slumped into one of the barstools, morosely staring out at the rain sheeting down the windows. 

“Nope.” Zayn walked out of the laundry room. He leaned against Liam’s back, resting his chin on his shoulder. He kissed the soft spot behind Liam’s ear, whispering, ”Usually it’s snowing by now.” 

Liam leaned away, turning his head to look at Zayn. “Really? Do you get a lot of snow?” 

“Enough to keep the ski slopes in business.” Zayn pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then straightened up. “Now stop pouting and look at the positive. We have the perfect excuse to lay about all day and cuddle.” He took Liam’s hand and tugged him to his feet. "Come on. You can help me put clean sheets on the bed.”

Liam followed, resting his hands on Zayn’s hips as they walked upstairs. “I’m not keeping you from working, am I?” he asked. “I can amuse myself if you have stuff you have to do.” 

“Nothing important.” Zayn tossed him a pillowcase and a pillow. “I need to finish reviewing the plans for the carriage house, but I’ve got time. We won’t even be able to get started on it until spring.” 

Liam tossed the covered pillow on the bed, then grabbed Zayn around the waist, dragging him down on the bed with him. “Good. If that’s the case, then I think a nap is on this afternoon’s agenda.” 

Zayn rolled over to face him, sliding his hand under Liam's shirt to rest it on his waist. Liam leaned in, their mouths melding in a slow, tender kiss. He cupped his hand around Zayn’s neck, his tongue delving into his mouth, pulling his lip between his teeth. He teased his fingers through Zayn’s hair, smiling to himself at the blissed expression in his eyes. He kissed him again. 

“Come to London next week.” 

Zayn blinked quickly. “To London? For the release party? Do you think that’s a good idea?” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He watched the play of emotions across Zayn’s face. “Babe?”

“What about Louis?” 

“What about him?” 

“He’s not exactly my biggest fan, Li.” Zayn trailed his finger down Liam’s nose, kissing the tip of it. “I don’t want to be the source of problems between the two of you.” 

“You’re not. Didn’t you say you want to fix things? It’d be the perfect opportunity.” 

“I did. I do. It’s just-” Zayn trailed off, his expression pensive. 

“You may never get a better chance.” Liam offered. “He’s so stoked about the album. He’ll be in a good mood, and more likely to be magnanimous.” 

“But-”

“Please, Zee.” Liam captured his mouth again, tongue teasing along Zayn’s lips. “I really want you there. We can have your parents come into town. Our mums can go Christmas shopping together.” Liam tilted his head, dropping his bottom lip into a pout. 

“Aw c’mon, Li. That’s not fair.” Zayn poked him in the cheek. “How am I supposed to say no to that?” 

“You’re not.” Liam grinned, and laid back, pulling Zayn over with him. “So you’ll come?” 

Zayn stretched out on top of Liam, their legs tangled together, and rested his chin in the middle of Liam’s chest. He stared at him contemplatively, then sighed. “Yes.” 

“Yes?” Liam asked, excitement creeping into his voice. Zayn nodded, and Liam whooped. “Yes! Thank you!”

“ _Wallah!_ Telling you no is harder than scolding Quinn.” Zayn shook his head. “You both turn on those sad, soulful eyes, and I can’t resist.” 

“Resistance is futile.” 

“And you’re impossible.” 

Zayn poked his cheek, and Liam smiled in return, closing his eyes. 

“Love you.” Liam whispered, pulling him closer and folding his arms around him. Zayn tucked his head under Liam’s chin, and closed his eyes. Liam pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Always.”

“Babe, have you seen my phone?” Liam stood at the top of the stairs, futilely patting down his pockets. 

Zayn looked up from the papers he was studying, his glasses perched on the end of his nose, his expression quizzical. Liam’s heart clenched _. Fucking hell!_ Veronica, the sexy secretary, had nothing on Zayn Malik, distinguished businessman. “Hmmmm? I’m sorry, what?” 

“My phone?” 

“Oh, uh - I think- isn’t that it on the night table?” Zayn pointed across the room toward his bed, his attention already back on whatever he was reading.

Liam walked toward the unmade bed, the memories they’d made there in the last day still fresh in his mind. He straightened the covers, then retrieved his phone. Notifications filled the screen, the most recent a text from Niall. He opened up his messages as he walked over to where Zayn sat, settling his ass on the corner of the desk and snorting at Niall’s cheek.

(Four Leaf Clover )N(Four Leaf Clover )  
  
**N:** Mate, you promised to call me back two days ago.   
**N:** Li - I’m trying to be considerate, but we had a deal. Check in.  
**N:** Payno  
**N:** PAYNO  
**N:** If you’re shagging, come up for air. That shite starts to chafe if you don’t give it a rest every once and awhile.  
**N:** Liam - If you’re not dead, you’re going to be if you don’t call me. 

“What’s so funny?” Zayn asked, resting his hand on Liam’s thigh, even as he continued reading. 

“Nialler. I was supposed to call him back a couple days ago. I forgot.” 

“I can only imagine what he said.” Zayn looked up. “Call him back. Don’t leave him stewing for too long, he’ll turn it into an international incident.” 

“I will. In a bit.” He placed his hand over Zayn’s and peered at the papers lying on the desk. “Are those blueprints?” 

“Yeah. There’s a carriage house on the other side of the inn. We’ve been using it for storage- like the holiday decorations and what not.” Zayn looked back at the blueprints, his free hand smoothing them down. “I want to turn it into an expansive honeymoon suite, separate from the main inn to allow for more privacy and intimacy.” 

“That’s- wow.” Liam replied, impressed. “May I?” 

“Sure, go ahead.” Zayn sat back, giving Liam room to lean closer. “Apparently it was used as a garage for a time by one of the previous owners. The concrete is stained and cracked. It has to come up anyway so they can run plumbing for the bath and kitchenette.” 

“Is that what this space is over here?” Liam pointed to a partitioned off section.

“Uh-huh. A sink, two burner stove, and a refrigerator.” Zayn touched each element as he mentioned them, then flipped to another page. “This is the bathroom. A two-person rain shower with an oversized soaking tub. The surround will be marble with a step ledge all the way around it. I want to talk to the contractor about adding a skylight overhead.” 

Liam watched Zayn’s face as he talked, saw the way he lit up discussing the different elements. “You’re really hands on with all the details. Did you always plan to open the inn?” 

“Nah. When I first bought the property, I just wanted someplace to hide away from the rest of the world. Remember I said it’d been empty for a couple of years?” Liam nodded, “That’s because the owners weren’t willing to sell to a big developer who would cut it up into smaller parcels and build another shopping mall or over-priced housing community.” Zayn looked up at Liam, his expression earnest. “Originally, I started the renovations to keep me occupied. They gave me a sense of purpose when I left New Beginnings, a chance to start over, to build something that was wholly mine.” 

Liam sat up, giving Zayn his full attention, fascinated by the man he had become. 

“I had no idea what I was doing, but I was determined to do it myself. I quickly learned that being able to hold a falsetto did me absolutely no good when it came to demolishing a wall.”

Liam chuckled at the mental image of Zayn swinging a sledgehammer. “I think I would have paid big money to see that.” 

“I worked my arse off, trying my hand at everything. Thank goodness I could afford to pay people to fix shite when I fucked up.” Zayn shook his head with a laugh and a wry smile. “By the time I finished the main house, I realized the potential it had as a bed and breakfast. I also knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I’d found a place I could call home.”

“I envy you that.” Liam took Zayn’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I have houses. The London flat, the house in Surry, the one in LA. They’re places to store my stuff as I move from one to the other. But,” Liam shook his head, “I’ve never felt completely settled in any of them. I think it’s why I stayed so busy during the hiatus. Everything just seemed kind of- I dunno- empty.”

“Maybe it wasn’t where you were, but who you were with.” 

“Liam tilted his head, considering the idea. “Probably. Being here, even while you were in New York and everything seemed kind of hopeless, I still felt at peace, that whatever happened, it would be okay. I would be okay.” 

“You’ve been in therapy. You know the Serenity Prayer.” Liam nodded. “That’s what I have here - serenity.” 

Liam leaned in for a kiss, only to have his ass start vibrating, the opening bars of _Act Your Age_ following. 

“Niall?” 

“Niall,” Liam confirmed, pulling his phone from his pocket and answering it. 

_“Liam, you fucking wanker! I was about to call the local police for a health and safety check! The only thing that saved your arse was the fact that I couldn’t remember where the fuck you were.”_

“Hello to you, too, Nialler. How’s LA?”

 _“Fuck you, Payno. You said you’d call. You didn’t. You ignored my texts. Harry’s officially my favorite now.”_

“This week. Next week, he’ll piss you off and it’ll be Louis. You’re fickle, and you love us all, no matter what.” 

Zayn stood to leave, but Liam grabbed his hand, shaking his head no. He tucked his phone into his neck. “It’s fine. Stay,” he whispered.

“I don’t think I should. I’ll go start dinner.”

 _“Who are you talking to? Is that Zayn?”_

"Who else would it be?” 

_"I want to talk to him. Put him on the phone.”_

“I don’t think so."

 _“Why?”_ Niall asked. _"Doesn’t he want to talk to me?”_

No, Niall , it’s not-” 

_“Just ask him, Liam.”_ Liam groaned and looked at Zayn who still stood next to him, gnawing the corner of his lip nervously.

“Niall wants to talk to you.” 

“To me?” Zayn looked like a deer in the headlights. “Why?” 

“Who knows with him. Though to be honest, he missed you, too. I told you, we all did.”

Zayn lifted his hand in a helpless wave. “But- dinner.” 

“You can say no, babe. It’s fine.” Liam inclined his head, lifting the phone clear and laying it against his chest to mute his and Zayn’s conversation. "You’ll have to talk to him eventually though. Maybe it’d be better to clear the air now, instead of dealing with all three of them at once.”

“I… yeah. You’re probably right.” Zayn conceded. “You’ll stay though, right?”

“If you want me to, yeah. Of course.” Liam lifted the phone back up to hear Niall ranting on about him being a twat. “Ni- Niall - Will you shut up? He’s going to talk to you. So help me God, if you so much as think of being a dick-”

Zayn took the phone out of his hands. “He won’t. He’ll be brutally honest, but he’s never been a dick.” He gave Liam a kiss, then sank into his desk chair. Liam saw him take a steadying breath, then put the phone to his ear. “Hey Nialler.” 

Liam couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, couldn’t surmise much about what was said from Zayn’s monosyllabic responses. All he could do was watch the play of a gamut of emotions across Zayn’s face. Everything from remorse to relief, coupled with more than a few tears, which almost proved Liam’s undoing. He clenched his jaw, balling his fist on his leg to refrain from snatching the phone back and hanging up on his friend. Zayn laid a hand over his, squeezing until Liam relaxed and allowed Zayn to interlace their fingers. 

“I love you, too, Niall. No, I know. Yeah, that’s the plan. Uh-huh. Yeah. In London. For sure. Okay babes. You want Liam back? Yeah, he’s right here.” Zayn looked up. “He wants to talk to you.” 

“Are you okay?” Liam took the offered phone. Frowning, he studied Zayn’s face while he stood up. 

“Yeah, ‘m good. Stop snarling, it makes you look mean.” Zayn leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Liam’s mouth. “Love you. Thank you. I’m going to go start dinner. Talk to Niall.” 

Liam watched him walk away and disappear down the steps. He brought the phone back to his ear, laying into his friend. “You upset him.” 

_“It happens when you discuss deep shite. The last ten years haven’t exactly been a walk in the park for me, either, you know. I had to watch all of you hurting, and couldn’t do anything to fix it.”_ Niall groused. _"Not to mention the AMAs. That was some uncomfortable shite. He looked right through me.”_

“He went through some shite, Ni.” 

_“I know he did, Payno. It’s why I gave him a pass. But, things needed to be said, and I said them. It’s done. We start over here.”_

“What things?” Liam asked, wary at Niall’s reply. 

_“That’s between him and me. If he wants to tell you, he will, but don’t expect him to. Hang on a minute.”_ Niall paused, and Liam heard a door open, Then Niall returned to the call. _“Sorry. Too many people were around who don’t need to be privy to our private lives. How are things going? You guys good?”_

“Yeah we’re good. We talked, threw some shite that was eating at us at each other. Sorted it out.” 

_“So, he’s coming to London for the release party. You’re back together?”_

“Mmhhmm.” Liam cleared his throat. “We’re working it out. It’s not going to be easy, but yeah, we are.”

_“I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.”_

“It’ll be fine, Ni.” 

_“Have you told Lou yet?”_

Liam winced at the question, knowing Louis wasn’t going to be nearly as amenable as Niall was. “Not yet. I thought it might be better saved ‘til I see him in London next week.” 

_“Yeah, maybe. He’s gonna have a lot to say, regardless. Keep the peace while you can. When do you head back?”_

“Tomorrow afternoon. My flight leaves JFK around eleven o’clock tomorrow night and it’s a bit of a drive.” 

_“Then I’ll let you go. Enjoy the time you have left, and Li-”_

“Yeah?” 

_“If you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”_

“Thanks Ni. I’ll see you next week. Be safe.” 

_“You too, mate.”_

Liam closed his phone, tapping it against the desk while he reflected over the conversation, especially the part about Louis. It was going to be bad, no matter how he found out. Liam did know one way he could mitigate it, though. He reopened his phone and flipped to his messages. Typing quickly, he shot off a text, then closed his phone without waiting for a response. Harry would handle Louis. He had less than 24 hours left with Zayn, he wasn’t going to waste them worrying about things he couldn’t control from 3000 miles away.

Liam woke early, the bedroom still shrouded in the shadowy half-light of pre-dawn, his stomach in knots. Zayn shifted next to him, and Liam turned to pull him closer, hoping to chase away the sudden feeling of loss that had dragged him awake. He tucked his face into Zayn’s neck, inhaling the familiar spiciness, centering himself with the steady rise and fall of Zayn’s chest as he slept peacefully. Liam’s bags sat by the bedroom door, a glaring reminder that their idyll was almost over. By mid afternoon, he’d be on his way to JFK, heading back to jump into the chaos of press conferences and tour preparations. While leaving Zayn would be bittersweet, their separation would be short-lived. Only a week, and they’d be together again in London for the release party. 

“Li? Everything okay?” Zayn asked sleepily. 

“Yeah, love. Everything’s fine.” Liam pressed a kiss into Zayn’s shoulder. “Go back to sleep.” 

Zayn rolled over, tangling their legs together and resting his arm over Liam’s waist. Eyes still closed, he shifted closer. Liam felt the teasing heat of Zayn’s breath against his throat, the play of his lips across his skin. 

“What time is it?” Zayn whispered. 

“Early. Too early.” Liam slid his hand up Zayn’s back, anchoring them together. His heart ached with how much he loved him, needed him. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” 

“Now?” Liam leaned his head back to see Zayn’s face, certain he couldn’t be serious. 

“We could watch the sunrise over the mountains from the hill.” Zayn’s eyes were still hooded, his lashes casting shadows across his cheeks. 

“Or we could open the curtains and stay right here.” Liam offered.

“Mmhhmm.” Liam shivered at the sensation Zayn’s hum sent through his body. “I like that idea, too.” 

Liam reluctantly eased himself out of Zayn’s arms and walked across the room. He pushed the curtains back, disappointed to see the low hanging cloud cover. Of course it would rain his last day. 

“Babe?” 

Liam turned to see Zayn leaning up on his elbow, the bedcovers fallen down around his naked hips. A shock of hair fell across his eyes, softening the sharp angles of his face. Languidly, he lifted the sheets, his hand smoothing across the space Liam had just vacated. 

“Come back to bed.” Liam didn’t have to be asked twice. He slid back in next to Zayn and drew him closer. Zayn shivered when Liam’s leg wrapped over his. “You’re cold.” 

Liam’s hand glided along Zayn’s skin as he sought to memorize every inch of him before he had to leave. “Then warm me up, love.”

Zayn did just that. Pressing Liam back into the bed, Zayn draped himself over top of him, leaning down to capture his mouth in a searing kiss. With shaking hands, he prepared them both, then eased himself down around Liam. 

“Love me,” he whispered. 

“Forever,” Liam gasped, dragging Zayn to his chest as he thrust up to meet him. 

A heavy weight fell across the back of Liam’s legs, pulling him back awake. He lay on his stomach, face buried in the pillow, his arm still wrapped around Zayn’s waist. The weight lifted, localized, and moved. He stifled a laugh, knowing without opening his eyes what it was. As if to confirm his suspicions, a wet nose snuffled the side of his face, and he flinched away. Quinn lost his balance, falling into the space between Liam and Zayn. 

“Quinn. Floor.” Zayn muttered, his voice thick with sleep. The dog ignored him, instead licking his face in excitement at the sudden attention. “Aggravating bastard.” Zayn pushed the dog away and toward the bottom of the bed, then offered Liam a tender smile. “Good morning.” 

“Again.” Liam traced his finger down Zayn’s cheekbone, outlining the bow of his lip, smiling when Zayn gently bit him. “Hungry?” 

“A bit,” Zayn laughed. “I’m sure Quinn is. Probably needs to go out, too. His schedule’s been a little disrupted this morning.” 

“Think he’ll survive a few more minutes? I need a shower.” 

“Probably. I can let him out, though.” Zayn sat up and stretched, the blankets falling away to pool around his hips. 

“You need a shower, too.” Liam added, cocking his eyebrow suggestively as he trailed his hand down Zayn’s back. 

Quinn jumped to the floor, darting toward the stairs, then looking back at the humans who still hadn’t moved. He whined at their inaction, and ran back to the bed to dance alongside of it, barking to get their attention.

“How about you start the shower, I’ll let Quinn out, and then I can join you.” Zayn suggested as he stood. 

“Sounds like a solid plan.” Liam pushed the covers away and slid out of bed, walking to the bathroom. Zayn whistled in appreciation at the sight, heading for the stairs. Liam paused, staring at Zayn in confusion. “Babe! Where you going?” 

“To let Quinn out.” 

“You’re bare-arse naked!” 

And my yard is completely sheltered.” Zayn retorted, disappearing down the steps. He continued talking, his voice taking on a teasing lilt as it carried back up the stairs. “Make sure the water’s hot.”

“All your bags packed?” Zayn asked, handing Liam a cup of coffee and brushing a strand of hair off his forehead.

“Mmhhmm,” Liam took the cup, dropping a quick kiss on Zayn’s cheek. “Yeah. I dropped them by the front door. I left Emily’s number on your desk, She’s my PA. If you can’t reach me for any reason, she’ll know where to find me. I trust her with my life, and not just because I pay her. Niall’s number is there, too.” 

“I’ll put them in my phone so I don’t lose them.” 

“Good. Good.” Liam frowned and ducked his head, but not before Zayn saw it.

“What’s wrong?”

I… Do you wanna…” Liam sighed. “It’s not raining yet. Can we go for one last ride?” 

Zayn’s expression softened. “Not a last ride, _jaan_. You’ll be back soon enough.” He looked out the back door, and Liam followed his gaze. Dark clouds hung low on the horizon, the barest slivers of sun breaking through to cast a golden glow over the vineyard. “I think it’ll be okay. ” Zayn twisted a finger in the belt loop of Liam’s jeans and pulled him closer. Liam readily complied, wrapping an arm around Zayn to keep from toppling them both over. Zayn leaned in, placing his lips against Liam’s and whispering, “Worst case scenario, we get drenched and have to take another shower.”

Liam nipped his bottom lip, stroking his tongue across it to relieve the sting. “Sounds more like best case, to be honest.” 

“True,” Zayn slid his hand up Liam’s chest, curling it around his neck to tangle in the damp curls at his nape. Liam took advantage of the proximity for a deeper kiss, groaning when Zayn pulled away. “If we’re gonna go, we need to go now,” he said. Liam slumped and stomped his feet, sending Zayn into peals of laughter. “You look like my nieces and nephews being sent to clean their rooms.” He grabbed Liam’s hand. “C’mon, you big baby. Be a good boy, and I’ll let you kiss me on our hill.” 

“What do I get if I’m a bad boy?” Liam said, leering at Zayn as he followed him out of the cottage. 

“I don’t think we have near enough time for an appropriate punishment. You’d have to wait until I get to London.” 

“Zee, babe, you’re really not making much of a case for good behavior here.” Liam draped his arm over Zayn’s shoulder, tugging him into his side and smacking a kiss on his cheek. "I mean a kiss, versus delayed gratification and ‘punishment’?” 

Snorting, Zayn shoved him away. “You’re an absolute dork. Good thing I love you.” 

Liam lunged for his arm, stepping back when he saw Nadia exit the stable doors with one of the other horses on a lead. Better they don’t do anything to fuel the staff gossip mill. He was certain they were the current hot topic, given him still being around, but no longer in residence at the inn.

They quickly saddled the horses and rode out. The storms held off, though the smell of rain hung heavy in the air. Liam rode slowly, allowing all his senses to absorb his surroundings, building memories to sustain him until he could return. As if sensing Liam’s melancholy, Zayn rode quietly beside him. Liam felt the heat of his gaze, the steady comfort of his presence, and breathed deeply. He’d found everything he hoped for and more, his silent prayers from ten days ago had been heard and answered. 

Reaching the top of the hill, he stopped and slid from Travesty’s back, staring out over Zayn’s home. Thin arms wrapped around his waist, and Liam laid his on top of them. 

“We haven’t talked about Christmas.” Zayn said. 

Liam drew Zayn’s hand free and pulled him around to face him. “What do you want to do? We have a lot of options. London- which gives us both our families. I can come back here, or we can take a trip somewhere.” 

Zayn looked up at Liam, his eyes searching his face, likely looking for a clue of what he wanted. Liam didn’t care where they were, so long as they were together. 

“I think, for this year, I want it to be just us.” 

“We have our choice of places for it to be just us, babe. ” 

“Then I choose here. In our home.” 

Liam nodded. “Anywhere with you is home, Zee.” He leaned down, sealing the promise with a kiss. “Here is perfect.”

They stood in each other’s arms, and with tender kisses and whispered words, affirmed their love for each other. It was only when an alert sounded from Liam’s phone that they were reminded of how little time they had left. Liam pulled it out of his back pocket to check the notification. 

“Is it time?” 

“My flight’s delayed half an hour.” Liam heaved a sigh. “But yeah, we need to head back so we can clean these boys up and get them settled. I’ve still got a long drive ahead of me, and I don’t want to risk traffic being a problem.” 

Liam held Cool’s reins while Zayn remounted, then pulled himself back into Travesty’s saddle. He checked his straps and looked up to see a glint in Zayn’s eyes. 

“Shall we?” 

Liam grinned and winked. “See you at the trees!” With a shout of ‘giddy-up’ to Travesty, he snapped the reins and let the horse have his head, knowing Zayn would be right beside him.

Liam finished wiping down Travesty, settling a clean blanket over his back, before turning him out into the pasture. He paused for a moment, leaning on the fence to watch the horses. He hadn’t even left yet, and he already missed Rising Phoenix and all its residents, especially it’s owner. 

The earlier breeze picked up, the tree limbs thrashing overhead, as the heavy clouds rolled in. Concerned about the impending storm, Liam glanced back over his shoulder to look for Zayn. He found him standing at the barn doors talking to Nadia. Their eyes met, and Liam pointed to the sky. Zayn nodded, holding up a finger as if asking for another minute. Liam smiled, turning his attention back to the horses. 

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned with a smile, expecting to find Zayn next to him. Instead, a young woman in her early twenties stared up at him, her hand shading her eyes. He schooled his smile, unable to place her face amongst the many staff members he’d met. 

“Oh wow, It is you. You’re Liam Payne. I can’t believe it! I’ve always been a huge fan and...” Liam froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Zayn staring at them in curiosity. _Fuck!_ _He can’t come over here! Not now._ Liam stepped to the side, putting his back to the pasture, and drawing the young woman’s focus away from the stable yard. She continued talking, but Liam’s only concern was alerting Zayn. He looked over her head, and saw Zayn’s eyes widen. Liam tilted his head toward the door, and stifled a sigh of relief when Zayn disappeared inside. He turned his attention back to the woman in front of him. “...have a picture, if it’s not an intrusion.” She stared up at him expectantly, her phone in hand. 

Liam shook his head, managing a smile despite the panic gripping his chest. “I’ll gladly sign an autograph, but I’m sorry, I won’t take any pictures. I’m on vacation, and I’d prefer not to advertise my whereabouts. I’m sure you understand.” 

“Oh.” The young woman didn’t hide her disappointment, then shrugged. “I mean, yeah, sure I get it. I’m on vacation, too. But oh my god, yeah an autograph would be awesome. ” 

Liam chatted to her while she knelt down to dig through her bag for a pen and some paper. “Where are you from then, if you’re on vacation?” 

“Wyoming. My cousin is getting married on Saturday, and we’re doing a tea for the bridal party.” She looked up with a smile, waving a pen and a small notepad. “Found it!” She stood and handed them to Liam, continuing to talk. “I grew up around horses, so I came out here to look at them while we waited on the others to get here. And there you were!”

“Yes I was.” Liam glanced toward the barn and saw no sign of Zayn. _Shit!_ He needed to wrap this up and find him. “What’s your name, love?” 

“Oh! It’s Sarah!” quickly adding, “With an H.”

Liam jotted a quick note and signed with a flourish, handing it back to her. 

“There you go. Sorry to sign and run, but I only came by for a ride, and I need to head out. Congratulations to your family, and enjoy your day.” 

Liam waved as he walked away, waiting to make sure Sarah had returned to the inn before ducking into the stable. He blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the shadowy interior, then looked around for Zayn. Not seeing him near the stalls, he checked the office, finding only Nadia seated at the desk, speaking into the phone about a supply order. She looked up when he rapped on the door, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. 

“He’s not here, Liam. I think he went back to the cottage. He was super freaked out when he left.” 

“Fuck!” Liam slammed his hand on the door frame, quickly apologizing. “Sorry, Nadia. Thanks for letting me know. I’ve got to find him. Damn it! This was not the day for this to happen.” 

She smiled sympathetically. “I know. I’m sure it’ll be okay. Good luck.” 

“Yeah, thanks. I hope you’re right.” He tapped the door frame as he turned, so frustrated he wanted to scream. 

Liam exited the barn, mindful of his surroundings and the possibility of strangers being present. Once he’d made it behind the barn and out of sight of the inn, he broke into a run, his heart hammering against his ribs. He reached the cottage and stopped to catch his breath before shoving open the door. Zayn wasn’t in the main room. 

“Zayn? Zayn!” Quinn came running, jumping up on his legs, and Liam stopped to pat him. “Where’s Zayn at, buddy? I know you know.” He looked toward the stairs, but Quinn took off out the open back door. Liam followed. 

Zayn stood at the edge of the deck, arms wrapped tightly around himself, his eyes focused on the horizon. 

“Zee?” 

“It’s about to storm. You’d better get on the road.” Liam shivered at the icy monotone of Zayn’s voice. As if to emphasize Zayn’s words, a roll of thunder rumbled through the air, the sky gone steel grey.

“I’ve got time still.” Liam walked over to Zayn, attempting to reach for him, but Zayn sidestepped and walked into the cottage. Liam followed, the wind slamming the door shut behind them “Zayn, stop! Talk to me.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about. You need to leave, Liam.” 

No! Damn it, no! Not until you talk to me.” Liam grabbed Zayn’s arm, spinning him around. Tears streamed down Zayn’s face and Liam’s heart broke. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“Babe, what? What’s wrong?” Scared, Liam tried to pull Zayn closer. 

He put his hand up to keep Liam away, swiping his arm across his face. “I told you- you knew. I can’t be a part of that life anymore.”

A crack of lightning split the sky. The clouds unleashed their fury, sheets of torrential rain slashing the vineyard. 

“Zayn-” Liam raised his hand, dropping it helplessly next to his side. “I signed an autograph. It’s no big deal. It was one fan. I didn’t even take a picture with her.” 

“And what about next time? Or the time after that?” Zayn’s voice rose, filled with panic. “Rising Phoenix is _my_ place! _My_ sanctuary!” Gasping sobs shook his body and he turned away.

“Please. I’m begging you- don’t do this to us.”

“I can’t do this, Liam.” Zayn choked out. “It was a mistake to ever think I could.” 

“What? No! You know you don’t mean that. Damn it Zayn, look at me. I love you!” 

Zayn shook his head, and looked up, his gaze lifeless and empty. “Please- Just go, Liam. It’s over.” 

“It’s not over. What’s between us, It’s never been over! In ten years, I never gave up on you. Never.” 

Zayn refused to meet Liam’s eyes and turned away. His arms hung at his sides, his hands balled tightly into fists, his shoulders hunched as if to protect himself. Liam felt sick, struggling to understand how things had gone so wrong so fast. He opened the door, the roar of the storm exploding into the heavy silence that had fallen between them. Taking one last chance, he tried again to change Zayn’s mind.

“Love can do anything, surmount anything, if you believe in it.” He stared at Zayn’s back, saw the imperceptible shake of his shoulders- yet still he resolutely looked the other way. Drawing a ragged breath, Liam closed his eyes against the stinging tears. All the love in the world would never be enough, not if he was the only one willing to try. “I believed in you, in us. But you- you never believed in me. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

He pulled the door shut behind him and walked away, the storm outside no match for the one raging inside him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> If you're enjoying this story, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated. You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about the story and characters.


	9. Whatever It Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the lyrics of _Whatever It Takes_ by Lifehouse

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[ ](https://app.photobucket.com/u/my2septgirls/p/a72c27f2-42ba-40cd-821c-b6bcff2e0cef)

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The four of them sat around the waiting room provided by the O2 staff. Murmured conversations had given way to quiet reflection on the chaos they were about to create. Ten years to the date since the release of their last album, they were about to stun the world, and their expansive and still supportive fanbase, with the news of their reunion. The announcement would also cover the album release, and the accompanying tour slated to start the following spring. 

Liam knew he should be elated. They were finally free of the oppressive constraints of the immoral contract Simon and Syco had coerced them into signing when they were barely more than children - contracts that had been used to damn near destroy not only their physical and mental health for the sake of milking their talent for a profit, but had also provided Simon with a weapon that he’d never failed to bludgeon them with if they’d dared to take a step outside the boundaries dictated by his edicts. _Not anymore Simon._ Finally. Fucking finally. Those words had come true.

They were finally in control of everything - the style and genre of music they played, the songs chosen for the singles, their tour schedule - all of it. No more taking the stage injured or when they were too sick to speak, much less sing. No more relentless schedules that didn’t give them time to breathe from one show before they were back on stage again. They’d earned a slower pace, and they were damn well going to take advantage of it. 

They’d wrestled back their lives and careers from Simon’s slimy clutches and were about to unleash their new music on an unsuspecting fandom. They deserved to celebrate the victory, but Liam couldn’t muster any of the enthusiasm or excitement radiating off his friends. He felt hollow, wrung out. Empty. He knew going to Pennsylvania would be a gamble, but he’d truly never expected it to end the way it had. He may have found the answers he’d sought, but in doing so he’d torn the bandage off a decade old wound, only to find it still as raw as if it were new. 

To their credit, the others had allowed him the time and space to wallow in peace - even Louis, who had loudly and unequivocally voiced his opinion when Liam first mentioned taking the trip. He’d been quick to decry Liam’s plans, insisting that ten years of silence should be all the answer Liam needed. Not once, though, in the week since he’d returned ––obviously shattered by the results of his efforts ––had Louis uttered the “I told you so” Liam had prepared himself to hear. 

The door opened, and their liaison with the O2 popped her head around the frame. “Five minutes, lads. We need to get you behind the stage.” 

Niall sat up from where he lounged on a sofa and leaned forward to lay his guitar back into its case. He looked at Louis and Harry, then over to Liam, and clapped his hands together as he stood. 

“C’mon then, lads! Time to pay the piper.” 

They all followed him out of the room, Liam taking up the rear. Nic, the head of their PR team, met them in the small corridor. “The press is getting restless and have been pressuring security and the venue staff for more information, but so far, I don’t think anyone has a clue this has anything to do with the band.”

“Good. Good.” Louis muttered, one of his hands firmly clasped in Harry’s, the other fidgeting with the bit of fringe that hung across his forehead. 

Liam smiled at the familiarity of it, even ten years on. These were his boys, his brothers. They’d been through some serious shit together, but they’d never given up on their dreams or each other. Of course, Zayn hadn’t either, not really. He’s just prioritized himself at a time when the people who should have, didn’t. Truth be told, Liam knew it had been the right choice, even with what Zayn’s decision had cost him personally. At least now he knew the truth. 

Sometimes, there’s only one chance at forever with the person you love. The fates hadn’t aligned for him and Zayn in this lifetime, but he could look back now and eventually smile because it happened, instead of constantly wondering why it had to end. 

Liam joined the cluster of his friends, leaning hard into Louis’ side. 

“Alright then, mate?” Louis asked, steadying himself against the added weight to keep from falling off balance. Harry leaned forward, his eyes soft and understanding when they met Liam’s. 

“I will be, in time.” Liam replied and relaxed under the familiar weight of Niall’s chin digging into his shoulder. His boys, for sure. 

The murmuring behind the curtain increased, a sure signal that someone had stepped onto the stage. Nic rejoined them, pulling Louis aside to speak with him privately. Even after all these years, management still viewed him as the backbone of the group when it came to the important conversations. Liam tuned out the hushed whispers, certain it focused on the logistics they’d gone through to make arrangements for their families to see the press conference without actually being present at the arena. They were all at Louis and Harry’s, where a livestream would allow them to watch everything unfold. The announcement wouldn’t just affect the four of them. Their families had borne their fair share of shit over the years, and every decision they had made had factored in the impact on their families’ lives, especially since so many of their siblings now had families of their own. 

Brandon, the newest member of their security team, joined Nic and Louis, and after a quick discussion, coupled with a lot of nodding and gesturing, he pulled Niall aside, out of earshot from the cluster of people milling around backstage. They returned a few minutes later, Niall bouncing on the balls of his feet, obviously ready to get past this and on to the party. 

“Guys-” Brandon held a finger up for them to wait a minute, inclining his head to listen to something coming through his headset. He nodded quickly and replied to whoever it was in the affirmative, then returned his attention to all four of them, Louis having rejoined the group when he’d finished talking to Nic. “It’s go time.”

Louis led the way to the stage, the buzz in the room tripling when Harry, Liam and NIall joined him. The press conference went off without a hitch, the mass exodus of reporters screaming into their phones as they ran from the room almost hilarious to watch from their secure viewpoint backstage where Brandon had hustled them off to, just as soon as the brief announcement had been concluded. They’d allowed a small Q & A, fielding questions from a few trusted reporters who would stick to the facts at hand, and provided a pre-vetted release to all the outlets present. It covered all the relevant details, whilst providing them the opportunity to avoid any uncomfortable questions regarding Louis and Harry’s coming out, and the pending litigation they all had, as a band and individually, against Syco, Sony, and Simon Cowell. 

Through the years they’d become adept at flying under the radar and they used it to their advantage now. Wending their way through the back corridors of the arena, Liam took the lead behind their security, his attention focused on the flurry of texts hitting his phone from his parents, as well as the social media explosion occurring on twitter. 

Engrossed in reading the threads popping up, he entered the room, and proceeded to walk into Brandon who had stopped short. Harry gasped. Liam snapped his head up to see what the hell was going on. 

He found himself staring into Zayn’s familiar amber eyes, wide with fear and trepidation. 

Before Liam could say a word, Louis erupted behind him.

“You fucking prick!” Louis shoved past Liam, pulling his arm back to throw a punch at Zayn. Niall grabbed him around the waist, dragging him a safe distance away. “What the fuck is he doing here?” Louis tried to jerk away and Niall pinned him to the wall. 

“Calm the fuck down, Lou!” Niall glanced between his friends. “He asked if he could come, and I helped him sneak in here so he wouldn’t be seen.”

“Look, Louis-” Zayn began, only to be cut off.

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to fucking say.” 

“Louis,” Harry stepped over, extricating Louis from Niall’s grasp. “I’ve got him, Ni. He’s not going to do anything.” Niall stepped away, and Harry held Louis’ face in his hands. “Just stop. Let him say what he came to say, okay? Do it for Liam.” 

Louis blew out a heavy breath, his tone venomous when he spoke. “Make it quick. We’ve got someplace to be.”

Liam still stood in the doorway, shell-shocked. _This can’t be fucking happening. Not now. Not after-_

Zayn stared at Liam, his eyes never leaving his face, even as the words he spoke were directed at Louis. 

“I get it Lou. You’re pissed. You have every right to be pissed at me, and I know we’ve got a lot of shite to sort out. You were my best friend, and I fucked up.” Zayn looked around, his eyes landing on each of the boys.” I fucked over all of you, and I’m really sorry. If you’ll give me a chance, I want to try to fix things.” He returned his attention to Liam, his gaze steady. His voice wavered when he continued. “But before I can do that, I need to talk to Liam, if you lads could give us a few minutes.”

“Li?” Niall asked. 

“I’ll hear him out, Nialler.” Liam replied, his eyes still locked on Zayn. For the first time, he noticed the heavy shadows underneath his eyes, the exhausted slump to his shoulders. 

“You heard the man, let’s clear out and give them some privacy.” Niall said, grabbing Louis and shoving him toward the door.

Louis issued a warning to Zayn before he left. “Hurt him again, and I’ll hunt you down myself.” Harry clapped his hand over Louis’ mouth, pulling him out of the room.

We’ll leave you two to it, then,” Niall followed the others out, pulling the door closed behind him, and leaving Zayn and Liam alone together. 

Liam pushed past Zayn to grab a bottle of water, his mouth suddenly gone dry and his throat closing up. He downed most of it in one long gulp and slowly turned to face Zayn, dreading the likelihood that he was about to have his dreams dashed once more. 

“Why are you here?”

“Travesty and Quinn miss you.” Zayn took a step closer, reaching for Liam, only to drop his hand back to his side when Liam didn’t budge. “I miss you.” 

“No. Don't go there.” Liam looked away, shaking his head. “Don't do this to me, Zayn.” Liam growled, throwing the bottle across the room. “Damn it! I can't keep playing these head games. You made it abundantly clear how you felt about all of this before I left Pennsylvania. ” 

“I know I did, and I still can’t be a part of this shite again - not after it almost killed me the last time. I don’t want to lose my privacy and have my personal life part of the band’s media circus.” Zayn dragged his hand through his hair and Liam noticed the tremor before he made a fist and balled it at his side again. “I’m not here to fuck with your head, Liam.” 

“Then why are you here?” Liam asked again.

“When you can’t sleep, you have a lot of time to think.” 

“Yeah, well it’s worse when all you want to do is forget.” 

“Don’t Li- that’s-” Zayn shook his head. “I never meant to hurt you. I swear. When I saw you with that fan-” Zayn crossed his arm across his body, his fist pressing into his side. “I hadn’t been that scared in years. Memories of being mobbed flashed through my mind- all those times when paps were everywhere we went, documenting everything we did, every part of our lives on display for the public to dissect. I panicked. I shoved you away, when I should have leaned into you.” 

Liam rubbed his eyes. His head throbbed, competing with the ache in his chest. He fought back the lump in his throat. “But you didn’t. You said we were a mistake and you sent me away. So I’m asking one last time, why are you here?” 

“I thought about what you said - about how Louis and Harry made it work for them, even with the secrets and restrictions still in place and them both headlining their own tours. How we could do the same, and no one would need to know.” Zayn looked up at Liam, his eyes pleading with him. “I’m willing to try - I mean, for us to try.” 

“It’s not good enough.” It almost killed Liam to say it, but he knew what he needed, and he couldn’t compromise on it, not anymore. “Look, I know - I understand why you’re afraid, and I don’t blame you. But try isn’t good enough. I‘ll go to any lengths, short of quitting performing and leaving the band, to make this work, but you’ve got to be all in. ” 

“What does ‘all in’ look like for you?” 

“All in isn’t about trying - it’s about doing, about committing to making this work.” Liam gestured for Zayn to sit down and settled next to him, taking Zayn’s hand in his and meeting his wary gaze head on. “I respect the fact that you don’t want our private lives in the media. Neither do I. For far too many years people forced us to sell fake relationships to promote our music, instead of letting it sell itself. And for years, we believed that was what we had to do, even while our fans screamed and yelled the music was good enough to stand on its own merits without the bullshite.” 

“They were right.” Zayn interrupted. 

“Yeah, they were. We knew it back then, and after four - “ Liam paused and inclined his head to include Zayn “-five successful solo careers, we’re damn sure of it now.” Zayn squeezed his hand and Liam felt a jolt of warmth spread through him. “When we decided on ending the hiatus, we all agreed that we were done with selling our lives for someone else’s profit. The only people who have to know about our relationship are the ones we choose to tell.” 

“I was serious when I said I’d be content to never step in front of an audience ever again. I can’t move back to London. My life is at the vineyard now. ” 

“I’m not asking you to move. I can hop a plane to the East Coast just as easily as I did to Los Angeles for years, and honestly, the jet lag won’t be nearly as fucking brutal. It’s also a lot easier to avoid the paparazzi and stalkers when no one knows where to look for me to begin with. Rising Phoenix is only like five hours from New York City- even in the shittiest traffic, and it’s not hard at all to disappear once I leave the airport. I did it once already and no one had a clue.” Liam laughed. “Hell, for that matter, I can just fly into Philadelphia and be at the vineyard in less than two hours. No one would ever think to look for me there.” His voice softened. He lifted Zayn’s hand, placing a kiss in his palm. “You said Rising Phoenix was our home. I want to come home to you.” 

“And tour?” Zayn brushed a strand of Liam’s hair out of his eyes, settling his hand against his cheek.

“Come out to visit if you want. If not, I’ll fly to you during breaks in the schedule. We’re not going to spend ten months out of twelve on the road anymore, and we’re not planning to do it every year, either.” Liam reached for Zayn’s hand and held it in his again. “We’re older, our priorities are different now.” 

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Zayn’s smile was tremulous, but genuine, and Liam allowed the small flicker of hope that had sparked with Zayn’s presence to grow a bit brighter. 

“No,” Liam shook his head and stared down at their entwined fingers. “I still don’t have the one answer I really need.” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes?” Liam snapped his head up, desperate to see the truth in Zayn’s eyes. “Yes, what?”

“I’m all in.” Zayn lifted a hand and placed it on Liam’s cheek, his thumb stroking away a tear Liam didn’t even realise had fallen. “I lived without you in my life for ten years, Liam Payne, and in ten days you managed to completely turn it all upside down in the best possible way. I never expected a second chance for once in a lifetime and I’m not walking away again.” 

Zayn leaned in, and with a kiss sweeter than any wine Liam had ever tasted at Rising Phoenix, he sealed the promise. Liam’s breath hitched, his heart pounding against his ribs, and he dissolved into Zayn. 

Niall could explain Liam’s absence to his parents. For now, he held everything he’d ever need right there in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to John Hughes for liberally adapting the prom scene from Pretty in Pink when writing the end of chapter 8. It wasn't a deliberate decision, but the minute I re-read it, I realized how very similar the two scenes were. You can take the girl out of the 80s, but you can't take the 80s out of the girl. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read my flight of fancy. If you enjoyed this story, please, please leave kudos and comments. It's like air to a writer to know their work is appreciated.  
> You can also come chat with [me](https://laynefaire.tumblr.com/) on tumblr about this story and its characters. I love to talk about my writing, and I promise I don't bite - I mean, unless that's what you're in to. But that's a whole 'nother type of fic!


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